


Sin and Sorrow

by VOlympianlove



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Maleficent (2014) Fusion, Betrayal, Character Death, Death, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, Love, M/M, Mild Smut, Movie: Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, No Happy Ending Fest, Partner Betrayal, Poison, Romance, Unhappy Ending, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22434313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOlympianlove/pseuds/VOlympianlove
Summary: Humans were frail, flawed creatures. Full of greed and sin, Junmyeon had never harboured any love for them. Until the war came and suddenly, humans did not seem so bad after all.Or maybe it was just one human.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Byun Baekhyun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 40
Kudos: 68
Collections: No Happy Ending Fest - 2019





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** 179  
>  **Prompt:** During the war, A finds an injured B and brings B back home. Later, A finds out that B is a planted spy for the enemy, but it's too late, they're in love.  
>  **Pairing/Main Character(s):** Junmyeon/Chanyeol  
>  **Side Characters(if any):** Yixing/Baekhyun, Baekhyun/Yifan  
>  **Word Count:** 31937  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional Tag(s):** Major character death, implied cheating/infidelity, heavy angst, mild master/slave relationship (almost nonexistent but some instances)  
>  **Author's note:** I need to thank VK, L and N for the constant encouragement and especially VK for her excellent betaing. I moan about this fic a lot. Like _a lot_. If it wasn't for her sitting me down and forcing me to actually outline, I'm not sure this fic would be complete at all. To the prompter, thank you for prompting this. I'm not sure if this was what you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it all the same! I literally used this as an excuse to write that Maleficent fic I had in my mind. Take special care of the warnings and if I have missed anything at all, do let me know! Happy reading!

It was the horns that frightened them away, he presumed.

He always thought his wings looked quite angelic, even though they were dark blue and spattered with white.

But the people ran when they saw him and Junmyeon never knew why.

His master was lovely, all pale skin and silver hair. His hair matched his silver horns, horns that spiraled up into a deadly point.

His master was benevolent and before he was his master, he was his friend.

The ground sprouted and bloomed wherever his master landed, barefoot on the earth, the most beautiful flowers in all colours of the rainbow.

It was because of him that the Moors flourished, green and lovely, nourished by his master’s powers.

Junmyeon loved the Moors and he loved his master, swooping high in the sky as a dove or perhaps galloping through the forest as a white horse when his master desired to ride.

He was the only one privy to his master’s worries and the only one to know when he took a human lover.

“Yixing,” he had stumbled upon the human leaving the forest, shedding feathers as he went.

Feathers that he knew were Yixing’s.

Yixing reclined in his nest, his glorious wings spread out around him as he toyed with a red apple, stark against his pale skin.

He smiled at the sight of Junmyeon and the shapeshifter’s heart lifted.

“Come here,” he made a gesture and Junmyeon went willingly, kneeling before him.

The tip of a primary feather touched his forehead and Junmyeon turned his head, pressing his lips against the feathers.

“You’ve taken a human lover,” he murmured and Yixing stiffened, his expression changing.

He looked almost shy as he wrapped his wings about himself, rolling the apple over to Junmyeon.

“Is it a problem?” he asked softly, shyly.

Junmyeon looked up at him, at his friend’s glittering, dreamy eyes and decided that no, it was not a problem.

Yixing was happy, positively glowing and the Moors flourished even more in the wake of his newfound love.

Nothing much changed for Junmyeon.

He swooped about in the skies as a dove most days, as carefree as a lark, occasionally staying in human form to play with the faeries.

Yixing entertained the human away from the rest of them, for even in his happiness, he did not forget to safe keep the Moors.

Junmyeon often saw the human, as he was the one who entered Yixing’s nest the most.

He hid in the corner, still in bird form and watched as the human showered Yixing’s horns with love and stroked his silky hair.

“What’s his name?” he asked one day, when the human had left and Yixing was basking the afterglow, his cheeks flushed pink.

Junmyeon climbed into his nest when he beckoned him forward and began to braid his long silver hair.

“Yifan,” Yixing said dreamily, twirling a strand of his own hair between his fingers.

Junmyeon froze for a moment, before his fingers continued weaving.

“Is he not the son of a duke, my friend? One who is close to the king?”

“He is,” Yixing murmured, “he brings me jewels and food from the human realm.”

He laughed.

“As if anything could compare to our food and the treasures the pools contain.”

Junmyeon laughed with him, carefully fastening the end of the braid with a silver clasp.

“He is very handsome,” he said and Yixing turned around to smile at him, enchanting.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Junmyeon nodded as he rested his hands against his back, rubbing his thumbs into Yixing’s stiff muscles.

Yixing tilted his head back with a loud moan as Junmyeon loosened him up.

Yixing never let anyone touch him there, where his wings fused into his back. The skin there was incredibly sensitive and he was extremely vulnerable exposed like that.

Junmyeon wondered if the human had touched him, if Yixing had allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of his lover.

“Is he… good, my friend?” he asked, practically purring as he dug his fingers into a particularly stubborn knot and Yixing arched, pliant in his hands.

“Very- oh god!” Yixing moaned, his wings flaring. He threw back his head and Junmyeon laughed, catching him before his horns could pierce him.

“You ought to be careful, Xing,” he murmured, running his fingers through Yixing’s silver hair, “you could kill someone with those things.”

Yixing turned around, catching his wrist. His smile was sultry as he pressed his lips against the inside of his wrist.

Junmyeon shuddered as he scraped his teeth against the sensitive skin, making a pink mark on his pale skin.

“Do not call my horns things, Junmyeon. It’s incredibly rude,” he murmured, his breath tickling Junmyeon and Junmyeon exhaled, his heart practically taking flight as he was transformed, shrunk down into his dove form.

“Come on now.” He fluttered onto Yixing’s shoulder, tilting his head as he rose, picking up his discarded robe.

The wind blew Yixing’s robes out around him as he left the nest, Junmyeon perched on his shoulder and the flower faeries that live close to the nest chittered amongst themselves when their eyes fell upon Yixing.

“Hello,” Yixing waved and they waved back. Junmyeon nodded his little head in greeting, cuddling up to Yixing’s neck as his master walked, admiring a tree or a plant here and there.

The dryads came out to greet them, awed by Yixing’s beauty and Junmyeon could not help but preen a little.

He was always proud when the fae admired his friend.

Yixing laughed in delight when a pair of sprites flew past his head and returned with a flower crown dripping with water.

Junmyeon scooted away, ruffling up his feathers so as not to get them wet as the sprites set the crown delicately upon Yixing’s head, the pretty blue flowers sparkling with dew.

“The Moors are beautiful this morning,” Yixing said, sighing as he stretched his wings and Junmyeon crooned in agreement, poking at a dragonfly that whizzed past.

He heard a splash and looked down to see Yixing standing in the stream, the hem of his robes soaking into the water.

Not that his friend minded.

Yixing held up his hand and a cluster of fae fought for space, to land on it, pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get to him.

Junmyeon cooed loudly, fixing them with a hard glare and they wilted, shuffling into order.

He preened when Yixing stroked his head, rubbing against his palm happily. Head scratches were nice and Yixing was so good at them.

“How are the Moors today, Silverwing?” Yixing asked sweetly and the tiny faery chittered up at him.

Junmyeon closed his eyes as Yixing spoke with the rest of the fae. The sun was warm and comfy and he could use a nap.

He dozed on Yixing’s shoulder while he went about his day, asking after the inhabitants of the Moors, repairing broken trees and regrowing bald patches of grass.

It was always a good day when humans and the Moors were at peace.

Junmyeon only awoke when Yixing jolted him, leaping from stone to stone across the stream, his wings splayed out to keep his balance.

He ruffled his feathers and took to the skies, cooing as Yixing leapt off the last stone and launched himself into the air, the faeries gasping in awe as he spread his magnificent wings.

The Moors spread out beneath them as they spiralled higher and higher into the cerulean sky, the clouds misty and cold.

“It’s so beautiful, I never tire of this view,” Yixing commented and Junmyeon bobbed his head in agreement, crooning.

Yixing held out his hand and he settled upon it, allowing his master to land, right in the heart of the Moors, flowers sprouting at his feet where he stood.

Junmyeon grew to like the human, though he never revealed his human form to him.

Perhaps somewhere in Yixing’s heart, he still distrusted humans, for he never changed Junmyeon back, allowing his lover to think that Junmyeon was merely a pet dove that he adored.

“He’s lovely and so sweet,” Yifan, the human murmured and Junmyeon crooned, tilting his head. Yifan gave good head scratches and he had very nice fingers.

He pecked at Yifan’s fingers delicately, careful not to break skin and Yifan laughed, smoothing over his feathers with a gentle hand.

“He is. But he’s got quite the mouth,” Yixing appeared in the sunshine, the sunlight glinting off his horns as he reached around Yifan to pet Junmyeon.

“Quite the mouth? The bird speaks?”

Yifan questioned and Yixing nodded, completely serious. Junmyeon glowered at him even as he rubbed his belly, coaxing a cooing noise from him.

“I supposed you mean he speaks to you then, dearest. He certainly does not speak to me,” Yifan commented in amusement and Yixing laughed, leaning up to press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

“He’s got quite the filthy mouth, haven’t you, Myeonnie?”

Junmyeon chirped back in reply, pecking at at Yixing’s fingers viciously, nearly drawing blood.

“Ow,” Yixing pouted and Junmyeon flapped into the air, a safe distance away when Yifan laughed, turning to run his long fingers through Yixing’s hair.

“You wanted to show me something, love?” Junmyeon perched himself atop Yifan’s head, safely away from Yixing as they began to walk, Yixing shooting him mock angry looks.

“Just our pools,” Yixing murmured and Junmyeon cocked his head.

The pools were hidden in a trove of willow trees and were full of jewels and gold.

They passed a grove of orange trees, their smell sweet and enticing and Junmyeon flew up, rustling a fruit free from its branch.

He dropped it into Yixing’s hands, his peace offering and returned to his perch atop Yifan’s head.

“The bird is so sweet to you,” Yifan commented as Yixing peeled open the tough skin, offering slivers of the sweet fruit to his lover.

“Yes, I suppose so.” Yixing shot him a fond look and Junmyeon ruffled his feathers, preening.

His master swept aside a curtain of willow branches swishing in the wind and Junmyeon flew off Yifan’s head to watch his expression as he took in the gleaming pools of water.

Junmyeon loved the pools.

They were nice and shallow and shaded by willow trees and their trailing branches.

He had no need for the gold and treasure in their depths, preferring just to drink and bathe in the silver waters.

“Is that- gold in the water?” Yifan gasped, amazed and Yixing nodded.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked and Yifan nodded, dropping to his knees before the first silver pool.

“I just thought- well, with your father’s situation, you might appreciate-.”

Yifan’s nose wrinkled and his lips twisted as he reached into the water, pulling out a garnet the size of his fist.

Yixing watched him anxiously as he dropped the jewel at his feet, reaching into the pool for another.

“Take only what you need, Yifan. The pools curse any who take for greed.”

A sapphire joined the garnet and a ruby soon followed.

Junmyeon chirped, moseying over to peck at the jewels before sticking his beak into the pool.

The water was sweet and cold and so refreshing that he hopped in, flapping his wings to sending water droplets flying into the air.

Yifan tucked the jewels into his shirt and pressed his lips against Yixing’s, his fingers threading into his hair.

Yixing made a startled sound and Junmyeon tucked his head under his wing, peeking between his feathers as Yifan pushed his friend against a tree and kissed him soundly.

“Thank you,” he murmured against Yixing’s lips and Junmyeon huffed when Yixing melted against the human, clutching at Yifan’s shoulders.

Junmyeon chirruped, water splashing everywhere as he leapt into the air to perch atop Yixing’s horns.

To his immense satisfaction, Yifan flinched away when water splattered onto his face, jerking his head up to glare at him.

“These will feed my family for a week,” he said, gesturing to the bulge beneath his shirt and Yixing smiled, stroking delicate fingers against Yifan’s cheek.

“You can take more, only when you need them,” he murmured.

Junmyeon felt a little chill at those words but he ignored it.

The pools were more than willing to provide for those who needed it.

Yifan came more often after that, following Yixing eagerly where he filled his pockets with gold and jewels, enough to restore his family to its original grandeur.

Yixing mentioned only briefly to Junmyeon that Yifan’s family had fallen from grace and the king had stripped away his title, leaving them with only a little money to feed themselves.

With the pools’ service, Yifan could restore his family’s fortune.

“But not their grace,” Yixing murmured, one dark night. Junmyeon was curled up in the nest with him, carefully untangling the knots in his hair.

He was bare, only covered by a thin blanket that left little to the imagination.

Junmyeon hummed in response as he released a particularly stubborn knot, running his fingers along Yixing’s horns.

“Yifan fears that if word gets out about his family’s fortune being restored, the king will find more ways to take from them.”

“Perhaps he should find a way back into the King’s good graces then,” Junmyeon replied, smoothing Yixing’s hair back over his shoulder.

He bent, pressing his lips against his bare skin and Yixing shivered, tilting his head back to look at him.

“What is it?” Junmyeon asked, pressing his thumbs into his temples.

Yixing shrugged, the covers slipping just low enough to be scandalous and Junmyeon reached over to adjust them for him.

“I wonder what Yifan would think if he found out about you sharing my bed. Humans are never keen to share.”

Junmyeon laughed aloud.

“Oh, Yixing. He shall never find out. Not from me. My lips are sealed.”

Yixing smiled, carding his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair.

“So are mine,” he murmured, pressing his lips to his head. Junmyeon nuzzled closer, safe and warm as Yixing drew a large wing over them both, the sound of the raindrops outside lulling them to sleep.

When Yifan came one morning with his brow furrowed, a new cloak spread over his shoulders, Junmyeon could tell that something was wrong.

He stayed on his perch in the tree, watching as Yixing pulled his lover close, pressing kisses against his lips.

“Where have you been?” Yixing asked, stroking Yifan’s golden hair.

“I’ve had business in court,” Yifan said stiffly, his fingers brushing over Yixing’s wings in a way that made Junmyeon tilt his head in confusion.

“It must be important if it kept you away from me for so long,” Yixing said, batting his lashes with a coy smile.

“It was.” Yifan took up his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’ve been promoted to serve as the King’s general. Essentially his right hand.”

Yixing gasped in delight, throwing his arms around him.

“That’s wonderful!”

Yifan was strangely stiff even as he hugged Yixing close and that alone was enough to make Junmyeon suspicious.

The last he heard, Yifan’s family had fallen from grace. He must have made a very big sacrifice in order to be seen so highly.

The King’s right hand was not an easy position to procure, especially with the rumors spreading that the queen could not produce an heir.

Junmyeon took it upon himself to investigate after Yifan had left, flying across the river that separated the Moors from the human lands.

The winds were strong and dark clouds loomed in the distance by the time he landed in the town.

He could see horses coming from the other end of the kingdom, the king at the very head of the herd.

They must have just returned from a hunt.

The king’s face was creased as he trotted past, riding so fast that he was almost a blur.

Junmyeon followed him, swooping silently into the palace.

As far as the guards could tell, he was merely a bird, flying around the palace.

It did not take long for him to find the queen’s bedchambers, not with the windows open, a soft breeze blowing into the room.

Junmyeon perched just outside the window, watching as the doors swung open and the king stalked in, his lips pinched and anxious.

His queen lay in the bed, so weak that she could barely rise.

Junmyeon could see Yifan standing by the door, his head bowed as physicians examined the queen. He seemed to be thinking hard.

“There is no cure for her illness in these parts, Your Majesty,” the physician said, clearly agitated.

“There must be,” the king replied, his fingers curled tightly around his wife’s hand.

“Well-,” the physician hesitated and that was enough for the king to look at him, his eyes hard.

“Did I not say spare no expense? What is it?”

“There is one. A flower in the Moors. But the Moors guard their secrets fiercely. They’d hardly give up a flower that contains the essence of their dead brethren.”

Junmyeon flinched.

“You have contact with those faeries, don’t you, Yifan?” The king whirled around to look at his guard and Yifan winced, seeming to shrink into himself.

“I-.”

“You told me yourself that you do. All your family’s wealth returned over the course of mere weeks. There are rumors that the Moors are filled with hidden gold and treasure.” The king’s eyes were hard and glinting.

“Procure this cure for me, Yifan. And you will be rewarded.”

Junmyeon had heard enough.

Flapping his wings, he took off back towards the Moors, squinting against the setting sun.

His mind was whirling as he flew home, a prickle of worry blooming in his chest.

Yifan had told the king about Yixing?

Humans and the Moors has always been peaceful but the Moor folk had always remained secretive for fear what the humans might ask of them.

Yixing always told him that humans coveted what they did not possess and Junmyeon feared that Yifan’s simple request might spell more complications in the future.

The thought weighed heavily on his mind even when he slipped back into the nest, grimacing when the gentle fluttering of his wings made Yixing stir.

“Junmyeonnie?” he mumbled blearily, waving his hand.

Junmyeon stumbled forward, crawling into the bed to tuck himself under Yixing’s wing.

“Where were you? I’ve missed you,” Yixing murmured, curling closer to press his face into Junmyeon’s hair.

Junmyeon burrowed closer into his warmth, turning to press a kiss against Yixing’s chest.

“Just flying,” he replied, purring with pleasure as Yixing carded fingers through his hair, scratching his head gently.

“Flying without me?” He could hear the pout in Yixing’s voice even without looking at his face and laughed, nosing at the bare skin on Yixing’s chest just to make him giggle and shove him away.

“Take me with you next time,” Yixing mumbled even as he slipped away, back into dream land.

The days that past only strengthened Junmyeon’s unease as Yifan appeared far more often in the forest, sneaking off with Yixing to god knows where.

He tried to search for them, in an attempt to keep his master safe but they were nowhere to be found.

Some of the faeries guarding the glade had reported some flowers missing and Junmyeon could not help the niggling guilt in his chest at the sight of how defeated the faeries looked.

He was hopping from branch to branch, trying not to let the fear in the pit of his stomach overwhelm him when he felt his gut pull.

_Yixing._

Terror and pain exploded within him and Junmyeon leapt off his branch, following the trail of screaming agony. His heart thundered in his little bird chest as he flew, as hard and fast as he could in the direction the pain was coming from.

“Yixing!”

The smell of burnt flesh stung his nostrils and Junmyeon recoiled, gagging as he swooped down towards the ground, the wind snatching at his feathers.

Yixing screamed and Junmyeon stumbled, swearing when his short bird legs transformed, sending him tripping onto the ground.

“Junmyeon- Junmyeon, help. _Help me._ ”

His eyes could hardly believe what he was seeing as he crawled over to Yixing’s side, horror a rushing river careening through his bloodstream.

“How- how did this happen?” Junmyeon gasped. He did not dare to touch him, his eyes roving over Yixing’s back.

His master’s beautiful milky flesh was scorched black, two large scars marking where his beautiful wings had once been. Blood stained white feathers lay all over the ground, as if they had been pulled out in a struggle.

“Yifan-.”

There were tears in Yixing’s eyes, his body shuddering as he curled into a ball. Heaving sobs wrenched their way through his body and fury began to bubble and boil beneath the surface of Junmyeon’s skin.

_How dare he._

He cupped Yixing’s cheeks, pressing his lips against his forehead.

“Home. We need to get you home.”

Yixing whimpered pathetically as Junmyeon struggled to lift him, draping an arm around his shoulder.

“Come, Yixing. You must help me,” Junmyeon cried as dark clouds rolled overhead. Thunder rumbled and he cursed, knees buckling as he tried to heft Yixing to his feet.

“It hurts, Junmyeon,” Yixing gasped, tears streaming down his face.

Junmyeon’s heart was aching, tearing apart as he dragged him to his feet just before the heavens opened up.

Rain poured down in sheets, soaking the earth around them, turning the ground to mud.

Junmyeon stumbled, crying out when Yixing screamed once more, piercing and agonized, his knees refusing to hold him up as rainwater seeped into the horrific wounds. He shook his head, threatening to collapse back onto the ground but Junmyeon was insistent.

“Help me now,” he urged, dragging Yixing upright.

They were of nearly the same height but Yixing had his horns, heavy and unwieldy and Junmyeon was small, unable to carry much weight.

Yixing screamed once more, nails digging crescents into Junmyeon’s flesh, breaking skin. Blood trickled from his nail marks, dripping down Junmyeon’s skin and Junmyeon clenched his teeth, staggering forward.

He had to be strong.

For Yixing.

The storm lasted for days, thunder rumbling, lightning flashing. It was as if the sky itself was angry at Yifan’s betrayal and pelted the land with rain so heavy that the world blurred outside.

For seven days, Junmyeon remained inside the nest, nursing Yixing back to health.

Yixing had collapsed the moment they returned, his legs folding up beneath him. He looked so wrong, so small without his wings.

For seven days he slept, stirring only briefly for Junmyeon to spoon feed crushed berries into his mouth, trickle cold spring water down his throat.

The ugly slashes on his back healed over but Junmyeon was powerless to smooth the skin. The scars would remain forever, until the wings were returned.

Fae’s wings would never grow back and unless Yixing’s wings were returned, he would never taste the wind again. He would be bound to the earth for the rest of his life. It was cruel fate for any fae who had ruled the skies.

Junmyeon wept for him, even as he crushed berries into bowls, desperate to keep his friend alive as his body healed by itself. His tears mingled into the berries and they tasted of salt and despair when he fed himself too.

On the seventh night, Yixing made a sound.

“Yixing?” Junmyeon dropped the bowl he was holding, moving to kneel beside the nest.

He cupped Yixing’s cheek, his breath hitching when Yixing’s lashes fluttered and his eyes opened to stare blearily at Junmyeon.

For a terrifying moment, he thought Yixing had forgotten who he was.

But Yixing rolled over and cried out.

“Careful!”

Junmyeon grimaced when Yixing laid onto his back but it was not the pain that had caused him to scream.

It was the emptiness that he felt, the lack of his feathers cushioning his skin.

“He took them,” Yixing murmured and Junmyeon crept closer, watching with trepidation as he pushed himself up, reaching behind as if to reconfirm the fact.

“The man I loved. He took my _wings._ ”

The agony in Yixing’s tone crushed Junmyeon’s heart and he crawled up into the bed, nosing his way into Yixing’s arms. His guilt was monumental, a weight in his chest as he sniffled, burying his head into Yixing’s neck.

“Forgive me,” he murmured as Yixing held him close, both of them trembling for entirely different reasons. “Forgive me, master.”

Yixing made a muffled sound, his forehead pressed up against Junmyeon’s, their noses touching. His fingers curved around Junmyeon’s cheek and Junmyeon exhaled shakily when he kissed him, tenderly.

“What do I have to forgive?”

Junmyeon shuddered as he pulled away, unable to meet Yixing’s eyes as a thumb rubbed against his cheekbone, as if to soothe his tremors.

“I was suspicious. He was growing ambitious and- and the king… The king grows frailer every day. I should have told you. Perhaps-.”

He cringed away when Yixing’s fingers curled into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, bracing himself for his master’s rage.

But it never came.

“I would _never_ blame you,” Yixing murmured, moving closer. Junmyeon looked up at him with watery eyes, blinking tears from his lashes. Soft lips pressed against his forehead and he heaved a sigh, relaxing into Yixing’s hold. “I blame myself for trusting him. For trusting a _human._ ”

The pain in Yixing’s voice hurt him and Junmyeon could not help but cuddle closer, pressing their lips in a desperate kiss.

“Yixing,” he gasped when Yixing gripped him harder, drawing him close. He wrapped his legs around his waist, shuddering when Yixing pulled away, dipping his head to nose at the crook of his neck, trailing kisses along his shoulder.

“You’re the only one I trust now, Junmyeonnie,” he said, mouthing as Junmyeon’s skin.

Junmyeon laid himself bare, gasping and shaking as Yixing dug his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, fingers grasping at his biceps.

“Yixing, please,” he gritted out as he was pushed onto his back, Yixing crawling to hover over him.

Lips pressed against his and he kissed back fervently, threading his fingers into Yixing’s hair. He reveled in the slide of Yixing’s skin against his as the faerie stretched out, his weight pinning Junmyeon to the bed.

“I made a mistake with Yifan,” Yixing snarled and Junmyeon was almost afraid of the wild look in his eyes.

Almost.

He reached out to cup Yixing’s cheek but Yixing caught his wrist, pushing it down against the bed, his teeth bared.

“I should have known better. Shouldn’t I, Junmyeonnie?”

Junmyeon keened in reply, arching up to connect their lips.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped and Yixing kissed him fiercely, pressing their foreheads together. Junmyeon could feel his heart pounding against his chest, the anger radiating off him in waves as he scraped his teeth against Junmyeon’s lower lip, forcing his tongue in before Junmyeon could open for him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Yixing panted against his mouth, one hand curled around Junmyeon’s shoulder.

Thunder boomed outside and he gasped, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises in his flesh. Junmyeon leaned up, catching his lips again, tugging at his handful of hair and Yixing kissed back fervently.

“Only me and you, Junmyeon. Together.” He tangled their fingers together and Junmyeon squeezed, flipping them around so that he was straddling Yixing’s waist.

Yixing was completely naked and Junmyeon could feel his growing hardness against his thigh.

His blood sang as he cupped Yixing’s cheek, leaning down to kiss him again.

“Anything you want, Yixing. I will give anything for your happiness.”

Yixing stilled beneath him and Junmyeon looked down to see his eyes glittering and hard, black like flint stones, like the onyx that lay in their pools of treasure.

The very pools that had led Yifan to his betrayal.

“Even if I wish for war?” Yixing asked softly, smoothing his hand along Junmyeon’s side.

The touch tickled and Junmyeon moved away, bending to press a kiss against Yixing’s forehead, nuzzling his nose before kissing his lips once more.

“If it is so, then I shall ride beside you in battle,” he murmured, reveling in Yixing’s brilliant smile.

-

Yifan’s coronation was the talk of the town, much to Junmyeon’s disgust. He was disguised as his usual dove self, perched on the windowsill of the palace peeking in.

Yifan himself was dull, his eyes almost lifeless as the king himself placed the crown atop his head with shaking hands.

The king’s voice quivered when he read out the proclamation, pronouncing Yifan as his successor, the son that his wife could not bear.

Junmyeon puffed out his little chest, squinting as Yifan strode down the carpet, his royal robes trailing behind him as he walked, his eyes full of sorrow even as he stepped out of the palace doors and heard the people’s cheers.

Perhaps he felt some lingering guilt over taking Yixing’s wings.

Those wings were nowhere to be found, not a single feather to be seen.

Junmyeon followed him until night fell and he retired to his chambers. He stood outside the window, watching with revulsion coiling in his belly as the door opened and another man stepped into the room.

He was as lithe as Yixing but smaller, his skin the colour of moonlight.

Yifan beckoned to him from the bed and the man practically glided over the floor, his robes so thin that they were almost sheer.

Yifan pulled him close and Junmyeon turned away as he divested the man of his robes, deciding that he had seen enough.

He leapt off the ledge, flying home to the Moors, his anger a boiling river in his bloodstream.

Yixing was standing on the river’s edge, waiting for him, pale arm outstretched like a statue in the silver light of the moon.

Junmyeon landed on his wrist, cooing softly, his heart heavy with the information he now knew. He dreaded telling him of the man who seemed to have taken his place in Yifan’s heart.

“Let’s go home, little Myeonnie,” Yixing murmured, stroking his little head.

Junmyeon nudged his head against Yixing’s fingers and his friend chuckled, scratching his breast just to hear him coo in delight.

When they crawled into bed that night, tangled up in each other’s arms, Yixing asked him for all that he had learned.

“He is king now,” Junmyeon said, nuzzling into the crook of Yixing’s neck.

Yixing hummed, completely serene.

“And?”

“He has a mate. A _human_ mate. Completely and utterly useless excuse for a man-.”

“Shh.” Yixing pressed a finger against his lips and Junmyeon fell silent, his anger bubbling beneath the surface as Yixing stroked his head, a look of sorrow flitting across his face before it was gone.

“Wedding,” he murmured, “a wedding would be perfect.”

Junmyeon kissed his cheek, not truly understanding but he trusted Yixing.

He knew what he was doing.

Junmyeon never bothered to learn the name of Yifan’s mate, finding him too inconsequential compared to Yifan’s actions.

He flew to and fro between the Moors and the human lands gathering intel while Yixing practiced his magic.

Yixing made himself a staff, so white it looked like bone and the magic pools gave him a massive shard of moonstone to set atop it.

To protect the Moors from the attacks that were sure to follow his appearance, Yixing grew thorn briars from the ground, spiraling and twisty bushes of thorns so high that they could not be seen over.

Any non magical being attempting to cross would be pushed out or pierced by the thorns.

Yixing cloaked himself into a beautiful robe, one with a trailing cape that was tinged the same blue as the flecks on his stolen wings.

The robes clung to all the right places, showing off his body and Junmyeon could not help his shiver when Yixing yanked him into a searing kiss.

“Come, my darling,” he murmured and Junmyeon cooed, his body shrinking into bird form and fluttering onto his finger.

They stood on the outside of the briars, staring across the river at the festivities that were already beginning to celebrate the new king’s engagement.

Yixing smirked as Junmyeon huddled up against his neck, tucking his head under his wing.

“Don’t be afraid, dearest. We have the upper hand here.” He stroked a line from Junmyeon’s head to tail, tickling his tail feathers lightly.

A wild mass of branches exploded from the river bank, coiling and stretching until they formed a bridge, solid enough to walk on.

Junmyeon peeped as Yixing strode across confidently, ruffling his feathers when people turned to look in awe.

“Who is that?”

“He’s so beautiful!”

“Those horns are deadly.”

The whispers carried as the crowd gathered in front of the palace parted for Yixing, Junmyeon cooing proudly from his perch on his shoulder.

“Who are you?”

A guard stopped them just as they were about to cross the threshold of the palace’s gates, crossing his lance before Yixing.

Junmyeon made an indignant noise but quieted when Yixing shushed him, stroking his head to soothe him.

He flicked his wrist and everyone gasped when the deadly weapon melted into a trailing vine, bursting with blooms, the guard stepping back in shock.

Yixing walked through the gates, turning more weapons into vines when the guards came at him.

The doors swung open and Junmyeon was treated to the grand hall of the palace, a sight that he had become very familiar with.

He cooed with satisfaction when the couple standing at the altar froze at the sight of them, Yifan’s mouth agape in a very unattractive manner.

“Yixing…”

Yixing smiled, looking ethereal as the sun shone in from the windows, reflecting off his white robes and silver hair, which he had let down for the occasion.

“What are you-.”

“Doing here?”

Yixing took a step forward and Junmyeon fluttered off his shoulder, flying forward to perch atop of the moonstone shard.

“Giving you a gift, of course. Your wedding gift! Isn’t that kind of me, after all that you’ve done to me?”

Yifan tensed, stepping forward with his hand on his sword hilt. He put himself between Yixing and his groom, who was staring up at Yixing with the most frightened look on his face.

It was truly thrilling.

Junmyeon cocked his head at the groom, trilling a soft song and Yixing stroked his head with a tinkling laugh.

“What do you want?” Yifan growled, low in his throat as his guests began to titter amongst themselves, his hand gripped so tightly around his sword hilt that his knuckles had turned white.

“A gift for the groom.” Yixing ignored him, raising his staff.

“We don’t want your gift.”

The base of his staff slammed into the floor and flowers burst forth from the stone floor, blue morning glory on trailing vines and orchids of every colour.

“My, my that is so ungrateful of you, Yifan. You did not say such things when I showed you our pools,” Yixing grinned and Yifan paled.

“On the hundredth day of your marriage, your dearly beloved… what’s your name, dear child? I couldn’t quite catch it,” Yixing purred and almost as if he was in a trance, the groom standing at the altar took a step forward.

“Baekhyun,” he whispered and Yixing made a sound.

“A pretty name for a pretty face.”

He commented and Yifan tensed.

“Yixing, whatever happened, it was between us. Please leave Baekhyun out of this.”

Junmyeon could burst from the fury boiling inside him.

Whatever happened? How dare he condense everything he had done, his betrayal, into something so small and inconsequential?

He bristled, ready to peck Yifan’s eyes out but Yixing soothed him.

However, his eyes was cold when he regarded Yifan.

“On the hundredth day of your marriage, your dearly beloved Baekhyun shall be transformed… into a beast so horrifying you will not stand to look upon his face. His beauty will turn, just as you turned against me and he will leave you just as you have _left_ me!”

Yixing slammed the end of his staff once more into the floor just as Yifan roared for the guards, smoke billowing out from around him.

Junmyeon held on tight, engraving Baekhyun’s despairing wail and distraught face into his mind as Yixing vanished, bending space and time to return them behind the briars, the Moors where it was safe.

The humans opened war upon the Moors then, slicing at the briars with axes and swords, desperate to find Yixing, to break the curse cast so cruelly upon their beloved king consort.

Junmyeon watched them from his perch, with scorn. He ruffled his feathers and swooped off.

Yixing was waiting for him when he returned, transforming him to human form before he could land on his wrist, like he always did.

His face was lined with pain when he cupped Junmyeon’s cheek, pulling him close.

“Junmyeon,” he murmured and Junmyeon curled around him, trying to fit into his arms, “I must ask one more thing of you.”

“Anything,” Junmyeon replied, looking up at him with a glorious smile, “you know I would do anything you ask.”

Yixing’s smile twisted as he caressed his face, bending to kiss his nose tenderly.

“I wish for you to walk among the humans. Become one of them. Learn their weakness, their secrets so that we may carve a path through them. We will flatten the human lands and the Moors will take back what once belonged to us.”

“I am loathe to leave you but if that is your wish, Yixing. Then so be it. I am to leave at sunrise?”

Yixing stroked a line from his shoulder to his abdomen, resting just above Junmyeon’s crotch, his smile turning into a smirk.

“Shall we have some fun before you leave then, my beautiful Junmyeonnie?”

Junmyeon shuddered, leaning up and Yixing rewarded him with a kiss, cupping his balls in one hand. He squeezed lightly and Junmyeon gasped, fingers digging into Yixing’s biceps.

“You are so soft, so lovely on the outside,” Yixing purred as he backed Junmyeon into their den, newly constructed out of interconnected caves on a rock cliff, “but you’re hard as a rock. So brave, so loyal.”

Junmyeon groaned aloud when the backs of his knees struck against the edge of their bed and he fell backwards onto the nest that Yixing had made.

“Junmyeonnie,” Yixing murmured and Junmyeon answered with a cry of his name as his swollen member was cupped, a thumb slowly trailing around the tip.

“Please, Yixing. Don’t- tease!” he gasped, “we haven’t got much time.”

He tried to reach down, tried to touch himself but Yixing clicked his tongue and his arms were pinned, above his head, seemingly by nothing.

Junmyeon moaned, his member twitching as he writhed, Yixing trailing kisses along his body, pausing to give his nipples some attention, licking and sucking so that both buds stood erect.

“Tell me what you would do for me, Junmyeonnie,” Yixing murmured, returning to press his mouth against Junmyeon’s lips.

“Anything! I would do anything for you!” Junmyeon gasped the words into his mouth.

Yixing speared him open and Junmyeon was so full, so full of Yixing that he never wanted to let go. A hundred days without his Yixing, without his friend and master would be torturous.

But it would be worth it, if he could only make Yixing happy.

The bed was still warm when he awoke, sticky and sore, mumbling and reaching for Yixing.

A hand stroked over his cheek and Junmyeon’s eyes fluttered open to see Yixing leaning over him, thumbing at his cheekbone.

“Hello,” Junmyeon murmured sleepily, nuzzling into the nest.

He smiled to himself when Yixing leaned down, pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Good morning, dearest,” Yixing whispered, carding his fingers through Junmyeon’s hair and Junmyeon purred, stretching up to kiss him properly.

“The sun has risen.”

Junmyeon shuddered as lips trailed their way from his shoulder to his neck, Yixing’s teeth digging gently into the purple bruise there.

“I will miss you dearly.”

Hands stroked along his jaw and Junmyeon let him touch, to his heart’s content.

Something soft and silky brushed against his skin and Junmyeon opened his eyes to watch Yixing clothe him in a white shirt, carefully buttoning it up.

“Yifan has a general, a commander of his armies. I want you to seduce him,” Yixing murmured as he ran his fingers down Junmyeon’s abdomen, mapping out a line just above his liver.

“He will be most useful to us.”

Junmyeon’s lashes fluttered and he leaned into the touch.

“As you wish.”

“You know where he patrols.”

Yixing pressed something hard and cold into Junmyeon’s hand and he looked down to see a silver dagger, its tip pressing against his skin.

“Yixing?”

“I will take you there. He will find you wounded.”

His stare burned as he moved closer, leaning his forehead against Junmyeon’s forehead, their noses brushing.

Junmyeon exhaled, fingers closing around Yixing’s slender wrist.

He looked up into Yixing’s eyes and yanked, burying the blade up to its hilt in his body.

Pain blossomed through his body as the blade punctured through his skin, so explosive that he saw stars, his vision blurring.

Scarlet blood spilt all over his white hand even as he gasped, Yixing’s other hand coming up to grip his shoulder.

“That’s my boy,” Yixing murmured into his ear and Junmyeon shuddered, the corners of his lips curling as he felt the dagger slip out of his body, blood dripping down his nice white shirt.

The last thing he saw was Yixing sealing their lips together before his vision blacked out.

“Quickly! Quickly now! He’s bleeding out!”

Junmyeon awoke to immense pain spidering out from his torso.

He screamed before he quite knew what he was doing, agony piercing his nerves, like wildfire burning through his body.

The man kneeling over him with his hands pressed over his wound shushed him, his face changing from harried to kind.

“It’s alright. It’s alright now. We’ll get you somewhere safe. You’re going to be okay.”

Junmyeon tried to speak but there was blood in his mouth, salty and metallic and his stomach turned, bile rising in his throat.

His fingers squeezed around grass blades and he gasped again, digging his nails into the ground.

Something was wrapped securely around his wound and he was lifted into the arms of the man who had been stemming the blood flow.

Junmyeon swam in and out of consciousness as he was moved, everything mostly a blur around him.

He heard people shouting and felt more pain spiking through as someone else peeled back the fabric clinging to him and low murmuring.

Gentle hands carded through his hair and warm fingers curled around his, strong and reassuring.

“You’re going to be alright.”

Junmyeon smiled weakly before his world went black once more.

The sun was shining in through the window when he stirred, orange rays spilling into the room.

Junmyeon blinked, unable to remember where he was for a moment before he gasped, pushing himself into a seated position.

Pain exploded through his right side and he cried out in shock.

“You’re okay.”

The deep voice startled him, as an arm slid around his shoulders to help him sit up.

“Where- where am I?”

His mouth had been stuffed with cotton wool, it seemed as his words came out slurred and strange.

“You’re in my home. I found you at the edge of the Moors, bleeding heavily.”

Junmyeon focused his eyes on the stranger’s face, straightening a little when he realised who he was.

This was the king’s general.

“I- what happened?” he mumbled, lifting a hand to touch his face.

His hand had been scrubbed clean from the blood that had splattered over it and he had been changed into a shirt that was too big for him.

He was practically drowning in it.

“I do not know. I just found you like that. Do you… not remember anything?”

Junmyeon chewed his lip as the bed sank down, the general settling beside him with a concerned look on his handsome face.

He could not tell the truth.

“I- I only remember bits and pieces,” he stuttered, lowering his lashes in a way that made him look irresistible and innocent.

“I remember a knife and- and a man. Someone was trying to kill me.”

The look on the man’s face twisted with concern.

“Kill you? Who was it? You are very lucky. They abandoned you at the Moors. If you had been found by the one who lives within those walls, you would not be alive right now.”

“I- I don’t know.” Junmyeon’s voice trembled and he reached out, grasping the man’s hand in a fit of bravery, his lashes fluttering as tears filled his eyes. “Please, I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the man shushed him, stroking his head tenderly and Junmyeon shuddered, sniffing.

“Do you know where you live? I can send you home.”

Junmyeon put on the most terrified expression he could muster, yanking his hand away.

“No! I can’t go back. I can’t. My home was close to the Moors.”

He sucked in a sharp breath when the man tried to placate him.

“I- I fear that whoever tried to kill me may try again. Please don’t send me back.”

The man’s lips tightened and he picked up Junmyeon’s hand, holding it tight.

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise. Not if you don’t want to go back.”

His copper hair gleamed in the dying sunlight as he kissed Junmyeon’s knuckles swiftly, setting his hand back down onto the covers.

“I’ll be back with some food. You can rest a little longer.”

Junmyeon held his hand close to his chest after the man had left, mildly stunned by his gentleness. He did not know what he had been expecting.

The man was a giant human, compared to his slight size yet he had been so kind to him, someone who was a complete stranger.

He looked around him, studying the room.

It was a simple room, with walls made of stone. The sheets were soft beneath his fingertips but not expensive looking like the king’s sheets.

It appeared that the king’s general lived simpler than Junmyeon had expected for someone of such status.

There was a coat of rich velvet hanging on a hook by the door, a sword and shield hung neatly beside it and large boots set against the wall.

The king’s general was a neat man, it seemed as there was no rumpled clothes in sight or dirty cups or dishes laying about in the room.

A loud clattering startled Junmyeon and he turned towards the doorway, swinging his legs over the bed.

He rose, gasping in pain when the stitches tugged a little, his knees buckling when his feet connected with the wooden floor.

Junmyeon kept a firm grasp on the wall as he limped towards the door, another loud clattering and a loud curse reaching his ears.

He swung the door open to reveal the general standing by a wooden stove, stirring what smelt like a pot of stew with a wooden spoon, a pot of something half spilt beside him.

Junmyeon smiled a little to himself.

It was a strange sight, to see such a large man cooking at the stove as if he could not afford a servant to do the cooking.

He took another step forward and cursed aloud, grasping at his side when the stitches pulled harder.

The general spun around and yelped, dropping his spoon into the pot before hurrying towards him, arms outstretched to catch him when his knees buckled.

“I told you to stay in bed!” he scolded, his hands warm on Junmyeon’s skin as he held him up, seemingly without much effort.

“I heard things falling,” Junmyeon mumbled, “I thought you might need some help.”

The man pursed his lips, helping Junmyeon over to the nearest chair at the table, making sure he was settled before he returned to his stove.

“I’m alrighy, thank you. I was just making you some stew. Is rabbit okay? I ran out of venison a couple days ago and my errand boy isn’t due till tomorrow.”

Junmyeon’s mouth watered.

He had not had meat in weeks.

There was not much time to cook, with all of Yixing’s focus on the impending war and more often than not, they ate berries and whatever vegetables they could find.

“Yes, yes, I will eat anything,” he assured him and the general’s lips curved into a smile.

“That is good to hear.”

The stew smelled absolutely delicious, full of gravy and meat, nothing like Junmyeon had ever tasted before as it was ladled into bowls and brought over to him.

“Thank you,” he managed to say before digging his spoon in.

“Ohhh,” he moaned the moment he actually tasted it, the general’s head snapping up in surprise.

The stew was tasted absolutely divine.

Spices Junmyeon did not recognize married on his tongue, his tastebuds tingling with pleasure. The meat was thickly sliced and juicy, dripping gravy everywhere as he bit into it.

“You’re welcome,” the general smiled, amusement touching his tone as he dug into his own stew.

Junmyeon was too busy devouring his portion to notice that he was being watched, the general’s eyes crinkling at his every action.

“Your mouth.”

When he finally looked up to catch his breath, the general was smiling at him, gesturing to his lips.

Junmyeon blinked, motioning to his face curiously.

The general laughed and picked up the napkin on the table, leaning across.

Junmyeon startled when he wiped his lips with the napkin with a soft smile, shaking his head.

“You’ve got gravy on your face,” he said kindly when he sat back, the balled up napkin sitting between them on the table.

Junmyeon touched a hand to his lips and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, almost too soft to be heard but the general looked at him, eyes crinkling.

“You’re welcome.”

They finished their meal in relative silence, Junmyeon practically scraping his bowl to get the last of the drippings.

“Here.” The general set a glass of water beside him, collecting the dishes. He piled them onto the counter and Junmyeon watched in fascination as he twisted a strange looking knob and water cane pouring out.

“What- what is that?” he asked, forgetting his injury and rising to his feet.

Pain spiked through him and he yelped, grabbing for the table to catch himself.

The general spun and bolted to his side.

“Are you alright?” he asked, peeling Junmyeon’s shirt aside to look at the wound, bound up in gauze.

“You really should not be moving.”

Junmyeon gripped his arm, exhaling shakily as he sat back down, wincing at the tug of the stitches.

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

He blushed a little when the general released him, smoothing the fabric back into place.

“I should have asked earlier but I don’t know your name,” the general said, turning back around to attend to his dishes as Junmyeon sipped his water.

“I’m- Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon hesitated a moment before giving his true name, but the odds of the general knowing who he was was small.

Even Yifan did not know of his existence.

“Ah. I’m Chanyeol, Junmyeon. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Chanyeol smiled wryly, setting his dishes aside to dry.

“Come, let me help you back to bed. You need to rest.”

He curled one arm beneath Junmyeon’s legs and the other behind his back to lift him in a bridal carry.

Junmyeon yelped, throwing his arms around Chanyeol’s neck in shock.

Chanyeol was so _tall._

He clung on tight as he was maneuvered back to the bedroom, where Chanyeol set him down so gently that he barely felt a thing, carefully tugging the sheets up to his chin.

“Rest. I will wake you for dinner.”

As his wound healed, Junmyeon learnt more and more about Chanyeol and how humans functioned.

Chanyeol lived alone and did most things himself, save for his food. Those he sent an errand boy to fetch with a list and a bag of coins.

He preferred staying away from the palace to keep away from most of the theatrics and most importantly, he was close to the king, a good friend since childhood.

For the first days of him staying with Chanyeol, Junmyeon kept to the bed, only limping out to see him when he returned.

“You’re hurt!” Junmyeon staggered over, gasping when Chanyeol limped through the door, covered in blood.

“No. Not mine,” Chanyeol winced as he toed off his boots.

“My men’s.”

Junmyeon’s heart dropped.

“Is it the war?” he asked softly, thinking of Yixing’s thorny walls and the creatures that he had called up from the depths of the Moors.

Chanyeol nodded, hanging up his coat.

“The creature has not shown itself yet. But the river grows higher everyday and the monsters that come from the thorns are ever more monstrous.”

Junmyeon shuddered.

The amount of magic Yixing had to be wielding was terrifying but the humans had iron.

And they knew that eventually, the iron could cut down anything in its path.

Chanyeol must have mistaken his fear for fear of the war, as he patted Junmyeon’s shoulder, his gaze softening.

“Do you still have family living near the Moors? I can send men to fetch them out.”

Junmyeon shook his head.

“I lived with my stepfather,” he murmured softly, bowing his head, “he always despised me. I have no one else in the world.”

Chanyeol made a sound of understanding and his grip on Junmyeon’s shoulder tightened.

“I was an orphan too,” he said as they crossed the room to the sink, peeling off his shirt.

Junmyeon grimaced at the sight of the slash wound along his side and reached for a wash cloth, holding it out for Chanyeol to take.

“Yifan- I mean His Majesty was my playmate on the streets. He brought me food every day and found me work in his family.”

“That’s very kind of him,” Junmyeon murmured, watching at Chanyeol dabbed the blood off the cuts.

They were shallow, nothing like his dagger wound and would heal quickly.

Junmyeon had trouble reconciling Yifan, the man who had betrayed Yixing’s love, cut off his wings with this other version, who had somehow taken pity on a street rat like Chanyeol.

“It was,” Chanyeol confirmed as he wrapped his scratches up in gauze.

“He has such a big heart.”

Junmyeon had to fight down the urge to snort and instead, nodded dutifully.

“I’m sure he does.”

Junmyeon learnt how to do simple chores, like washing the dishes and the clothes and hanging them out to dry on the line outside.

“You didn’t have running water in your home?” Chanyeol asked in surprise when Junmyeon leapt back in shock when water sprayed out of what he had called a tap.

He had been standing directly behind Junmyeon and had managed to catch him before he could do any damage to the dishes or himself.

Junmyeon thought fast, though Chanyeol’s warm hands curled around his biceps were incredibly distracting.

“I-, We had a well. We drew water from it to cook and clean.”

Not entirely a lie.

“Ahh. You turned it up too high. The knobs don’t stick. You don’t have to turn it so hard.”

Chanyeol reached around him and turned down the spray with a smile.

Junmyeon blushed and set his dishes into the sink, watching the water wash all the remaining sauce away.

Everyday, Chanyeol would cook and Junmyeon would clean, sweeping the house while the general went out to tend to his duties.

“Take the bed,” Junmyeon murmured one night when Chanyeol returned home, with a scratch on his cheek, bruised and beaten from having fought all day with the thorns that Yixing had put up.

He had noticed Chanyeol sleeping on the chaise, too long to fit it properly.

“You’re the guest,” Chanyeol said in reply, digging into his stew with gusto and Junmyeon shook his head.

“This is your home and I’m intruding in it. Let me do what I can.”

He walked away to run a hot bath, filling it with warm water and the only luxury item that Chanyeol allowed himself to buy, lavender scented oils.

Junmyeon inhaled as he set out the soap and towel, wondering when he had become so domestic.

He had not left the house for what he counted to be about two weeks, while his wound healed and now, he was aching to see the sky again.

A soft rustling by the door startled him and he turned to see Chanyeol in the doorway, mid way in undoing his shirt.

Junmyeon had never seen another naked body save for Yixing’s.

He found himself staring as Chanyeol strode across to him, shrugging his shirt off fully before reaching for his briefs.

Chanyeol was _very_ well endowed, his skin glistening with strong, firm muscles and Junmyeon could barely stop his eyes from drifting down to his very sizable package.

“Shall I wash you?” he stuttered, yanking his head up when Chanyeol let out a throaty chuckle.

“If you wish. I would enjoy it,” Chanyeol murmured and Junmyeon spun around to pick up the sponge, all the blood in his body rushing up to his face.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he chewed his lip, dipping the sponge into the water as Chanyeol shed his clothes, sliding into the tub with a moan that made Junmyeon’s skin prickle with heat.

He cleared his throat, pressing the sponge against Chanyeol’s back, the sound of the water dripping too loud in the quiet room.

Chanyeol’s muscles rippled as he stretched, gripping the edges of the tub as Junmyeon soaped him up, the water running in milky rivulets down his skin.

“What do you do, as a general?” Junmyeon asked, trying to distract from the stifling heat in the room.

“I lead the armies. Ride at the front lines of the war. Discuss strategies with the king. I’m rather rusty,” Chanyeol said wryly as Junmyeon smoothed the sponge along his arm.

“We haven’t had a war in decades.”

“Ah.” Junmyeon scrubbed, watching the water run down down Chanyeol’s back with fascination.

“You must still be doing a good job then, if your men have not all fallen.”

He could hear Chanyeol’s smile in his tone as he moved to the oils, carefully spreading a layer of oil over Chanyeol’s back.

“I thank you for your confidence, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon prided himself on being an incredibly put together person but the sight of Chanyeol rising from the bath, completely nude as he put away the sponges and towels, was nearly enough for him to lose his composure.

He could not lie.

Chanyeol was _very_ attractive.

He could not help but sneak a peek as Chanyeol reached for a towel, water dripping off his body.

“I can see you looking, you know.”

Chanyeol’s deep voice rumbled and Junmyeon jumped, dropping his sponge in shock.

His cheeks flushed beet red as he fumbled for it, very aware of Chanyeol’s presence next to him.

“Help me with this, will you?”

A bathrobe was thrust into his hands and Junmyeon yelped, turning to see Chanyeol in his full naked glory.

The general grinned at his obvious discomfort and made to take the robe back.

“I was merely jesting,” he murmured lowly and Junmyeon shivered, holding up the robe so that Chanyeol could slip into it, his fingers brushing along his skin.

“Have you-,” Chanyeol started when Junmyeon turned away but he cut himself off.

“Never mind.”

Junmyeon frowned a little but said nothing.

“Take the bed, Chanyeol.” He nudged him in the direction of the bedroom, moving to curl up on the chaise, tugging the thin sheet Chanyeol had been using over his body.

Chanyeol gripped his wrist, shaking his head.

“You’re my guest…”

“And I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Junmyeon reminded him.

Chanyeol’s expression twisted.

“Is that what you truly think?” he asked softly, going to kneel at Junmyeon’s side.

Junmyeon turned to him, surprised.

“We barely know each other and you’ve let me stay in your home when you are so obviously used to living alone…”

“I like your company,” Chanyeol stumbled out, his brows knitted into a frown, “it’s nice, coming home to someone.”

Junmyeon chewed his lip, bowing his head.

“We still barely know each other,” he pointed out.

“You know that I was an orphan. That I was raised by Yifan’s family. I’m the king’s general and I enjoy living simply. I like lavender bath oils and- I like coming home to you.”

Chanyeol’s cheeks turned red as he said the last sentence and Junmyeon’s heart skipped a beat.

He had never considered loving anyone else other than Yixing, never needed to.

But Chanyeol made him reconsider.

Yixing had told him to seduce him and surely, this was considered a win on his part?

“I was born near the Moors and before the walls came up, I played on the Moors themselves. I love the smell of rain falling on the Moors. It was always so fresh and comforting.”

Junmyeon confessed, his heart thumping away in his chest.

“I’ve never been on the Moors,” Chanyeol said, “but that sounds so lovely.”

He reached out, taking Junmyeon’s hand in his.

“I promise we will win this war. We will win back the Moors and you will be free to dance in the rain as you did before.”

The statement nearly made Junmyeon laugh, but he controlled himself, settling for nodding.

Chanyeol kissed his knuckles and Junmyeon’s heart fluttered.

“Come and share the bed with me. It is big enough for us both.”

Chanyeol was warm and safe as he drew the covers over the both of them and Junmyeon could not help but cuddle a little closer.

He missed Yixing and the freedom of the Moors. Of not fearing if anything metal he touched was iron.

It was lucky that Chanyeol’s taps were silver, a gift from the king, such that he could touch them easily, without burning but Chanyeol’s sword and shield were both made of pure iron.

Junmyeon remembered balking at the sight of them, practically feeling the heat radiating off them.

He turned over, watching Chanyeol’s face as he slept, the fearless general melting into just a man, human like the rest of them.

It was going to be harder than he thought, betraying someone who had cared for him when he was injured, even though the injury had been self inflicted.

But Yixing was important to him, more important than anyone else in the world.

“What are these?” Junmyeon asked, amused when Chanyeol returned the next day with a handful of flowers, his hair soaked with rainwater, dripping all over the door mat.

“I brought them from the market. I thought they might cheer you up a little, at least until you are well enough to leave the house and take a walk!”

“Did you not have a patrol tonight?” Junmyeon asked, stroking the little wilting blooms. They looked rather sad and droopy but that was to be expected.

The rain outside looked rather outrageous.

Chanyeol’s cheeks were strangely red as he pushed the blooms into Junmyeon’s hands and wiped his shoes down.

“I did. But I ended it early so that I would not miss the flower girl.”

“Ah,” Junmyeon smiled, walking to the sink.

He filled a little cup with water and set them into it. They would not last very long but they would look pretty until they died.

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

Chanyeol’s errand boy had told him stories of how Yixing had summoned Balthazar, a warrior tree spirit and his brethren to fight and Junmyeon’s heart had nearly stopped.

Balthazar had not been seen since the last war and Yixing calling for him meant that the situation had to be dire.

He worried for Yixing and the amount of magic he was expanding but also for Chanyeol and his men, for Balthazar and his brethren were renowned fighters.

“He called them back. The tree soldiers,” Chanyeol murmured, as if he had read Junmyeon’s thoughts.

“I’m glad you’re unhurt,” Junmyeon said in reply, torn as Chanyeol picked up his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles tenderly.

It was getting harder and harder as each day passed, to even _think_ about hurting Chanyeol when the time finally came.

-

Missing Junmyeon was like missing a limb.

Yixing turned his energy to protecting his home, raising his thorn wall and watching Yifan’s beloved.

It was the strangest thing.

Though despair ate at him, Baekhyun did not become any less beautiful.

Or less kind, as Yixing discovered.

Somehow, the king consort had managed to sneak out of the palace, even under heavy surveillance to cross the river and enter the Moors.

Or as much as he could enter.

Yixing had been amused the first time he saw him hovering at the thorn barrier, wrapped in a plain brown peasant cloak to hide his brilliant copper hair and fine clothes.

He appeared to be searching for a way in that would not involve him getting pierced by the razor sharp thorns.

Just for his own entertainment, Yixing had opened a tiny little patch, allowing him entry, just to see what he would do.

“Hello?” Baekhyun called.

He was shivering, gripping his cloak tightly around his shoulders.

Yixing smirked to himself, flicking his wrist delicately, swallowing back a laugh when Baekhyun’s cloak floated off his body, much to the human’s terror.

He was impressed that he did not scream however.

“Thistlewit?”

The name of a familiar faery startled Yixing and he stopped his tricks, watching as Baekhyun crept deeper into the Moors.

“Thistlewit, where are you?”

Yixing shrank back into his tree as a blur of silver appeared, cradling something in its arms.

“Oh, oh no,” Baekhyun whispered and as the thing got closer, Yixing could see the body of a water dragon, a baby, floating in midair.

“He missed you too much, Baekhyunnie. You’ve been away too long,” Thistlewit, the faerie, murmured sadly.

The baby dragon was still alive, but so tiny and weak that it barely stirred when Baekhyun touched its snout, taking it into his hands.

Yixing was astounded.

He had heard of the bonding between faery creatures and humans but it was almost entirely unheard of in these parts, especially with the unease hovering over both kingdoms.

“Neithea,” Baekhyun murmured, stroking the poor creature’s head. He looked close to tears, as he cradled the dragon close to his heart, pressing his lips to the dragon’s damp, whiskery snout while Thistlewit looked on sadly.

“I couldn’t get away,” he said, looking up the faery, his eyes full of regret.

  
“And the thorns-. I couldn’t get through.”

Thistlewit nodded sadly, fluttering down to land atop Baekhyun’s hand.

“Yixing keeps them up to protect us. He does not know of your bond.”

Yixing watched as Baekhyun’s eyes darkened, hugging his little dragon friend closer to his body as if afraid that he would be taken away at any moment.

“Would he put down those walls if he knew? Would he have cursed me, if he had known he was harming one of his kind? Or is he so blinded by rage and jealousy that it matters not the consequences of his actions?”

Thistlewit flinched and looked around, his body tense.

“Do not say such things aloud here, Baekhyun. He is always listening,” he hissed but Baekhyun only looked angrier.

“I am not afraid,” he declared and Yixing nearly scoffed. Still he kept silent, only watching.

“What more can he do to me? Let him come. I want to know what happened between him and Yifan that made him so bitterly jealous of a simple peasant boy.”

“A simple peasant boy who married a king.”

Yixing could not help himself any longer.

Thistlewit made a terrified noise and flew into Baekhyun’s hair and Baekhyun turned towards him.

Yixing was still hidden in the shadows of the tree, with only his blue eyes visible. If they squinted, they would see the spiraling curls of his horns, pointed up towards the sky.

“Come out into the light,” Baekhyun demanded, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Yixing laughed at him, mockingly high.

“Says the man who cowered in the throne room, behind a coward.”

The king consort’s bristling only made Yixing laugh louder. Humans were so amusing with their pride and desires.

“Why did you curse me?”

Yixing liked the desperation in his voice, the anger and the spirit. He was strangely reminded of Junmyeon, with his pretty lips and pleading voice.

The memories of Junmyeon’s body beneath his, his pretty lilting cries as Yixing took him apart was enough to make Yixing a little hot and bothered and his heart ached a little more.

He missed his little dove so much.

Yixing spun around and strode deeper into the Moors without an answer.

Baekhyun could wait.

Knowing his bond with Neithea, he would return again to strengthen it.

And he was right.

Baekhyun came as often as he could, every other day, not that Yixing kept count. He left a little patch of the thorns unguarded, uncovered such that the king’s consort could enter and hold his little dragon friend.

It was as if Baekhyun could sense him for he always looked in Yixing’s direction.

Yixing never went out into the light, preferring to silently mock the man with his presence, his shadow.

He gloated over his misery, his desperation for answers that Yixing would not give.

Baekhyun would turn soon.

It would only be a matter of time before his kind turned against him.

-

“Oh gods,” Junmyeon gasped when Chanyeol stumbled home.

He had been hanging the laundry, carefully draping Chanyeol’s shirts and tunics on the lines when he heard footsteps.

Chanyeol staggered towards him, face as white as a sheet, hand clutching at his side.

Junmyeon dropped his sheets, running quickly as his legs could take him, reaching him just before Chanyeol’s knees buckled.

He grunted when the full brunt of Chanyeol’s weight hit him.

The General was not a small man.

“You- have to help me,” Chanyeol gasped into his shoulder, his voice strained and Junmyeon heaved him up.

It was a small miracle how he managed to get them both into the house within knocking anything over or injuring him further.

“Why did you not stay with the army?” he scolded as he ripped open Chanyeol’s shirt to see the damage, “they would be far better equipped than I am.”

Chanyeol smiled weakly.

“Wanted to see you,” he panted, “if I don’t make it.”

Junmyeon’s heart dropped the moment he spotted the wound.

It was already festering, poisoned.

The skin was turning green, the blood dark and clotted.

“You-,” he stopped.

Rising, he snatched up a washcloth, drenching it in hot water.

“Hold it there,” Junmyeon ordered, grabbing his cloak from the peg as Chanyeol obeyed, eyes full of confusion, “do not move until I get back.”

“Where-.”

Junmyeon did not stay long enough to hear the end of the sentence, the door slamming shut behind him.

He fastened the cloak around his shoulders as he ran, faster and faster until he saw the river and the bridge that the humans had built.

“Hey! You’re not allowed-!”

Someone called out to him but he did not stop, yanking his hood up to cover his face as he ran, barefoot on uneven stone.

Perhaps Yixing had sensed his urgency, for he found a small patch in the thorns, unguarded.

He slipped inside and the wall closed behind him.

Junmyeon went straight to the pools, his heart hammering in his chest as he ran, the grass soft beneath his bare feet.

He yanked up the small flowers that grew by the waters, counting every moment that passed under his breath.

Once he had enough, he stripped the bark from the nearby trees with his silver knife, murmuring apologies before he was breaking into a run, sprinting out of the Moors and across the bridge.

“You!”

A strong hand seized him by the elbow and Junmyeon twisted, gasping when he came face to face with the king himself.

Yifan looked worse than ever, his eyes hollow and the shadows like bruises beneath them.

Junmyeon clamped his teeth down onto his lower lip and twisted free, darting away when Yifan lunged once more to catch him.

Every minute that ticked past was time lost and he was not sure how ago Chanyeol had been scratched by Balthazar’s dragons.

The mud squished between his toes as he ran, soft rain beginning to pelt down on the earth, the sheets and clothes he had been hanging earlier still in a heap on the dirty ground.

“I’m back,” he gasped, shoving open the door with such force that it slammed into the wall, leaving marks on the plaster.

Chanyeol was barely conscious, murmuring incoherently when he knelt beside him, crushing the flowers in his hands.

They bled milk white sap, the pollen sacs beneath the petals bursting open to seep sickly sweet smelling powder onto his skin.

Junmyeon smeared the mixture across Chanyeol’s side, ignoring his cry of pain.

“Lie still,” he scolded, pushing him back down when Chanyeol tried to rise, “let the flowers do their work.”

The bark he left to soak in a bowl with clean water from the taps as Chanyeol fell into an uneasy sleep, his skin beginning to burn with fever.

It was difficult not to panic when he first felt the heat on his skin but Junmyeon had used the flowers before, many years ago when Yixing had first summoned Balthazar and was accidentally scratched by one of his dragons.

The poison was potent enough to kill a faery if left untreated.

But Chanyeol had him. He would be just fine.

Still, Junmyeon wetted a strip of cloth, laying it across his forehead before turning his attention back to the soaking bark.

He went about the rest of his day, collecting the ruined sheets and clothes, sighing over the fact that he would have to rewash them and made dinner, a light stew that Chanyeol would be able to stomach whenever he awoke.

“Jun- myeon.”

The cry of his name sent Junmyeon stumbling back to the couch from where he had been pouring hot water into the tub in preparation for a bath.

Outside, the sun had already set.

“I’m here,” he murmured softly, reaching for Chanyeol’s hand.

Chanyeol’s eyes blinked open and Junmyeon smiled down at him, gently caressing his cheek before peeling the damp strip from his forehead.

“Can you work magic?” Chanyeol asked weakly as he tried to sit up, yelping at the pain in his side.

“It’s not magic,” Junmyeon soothed him, moving to wrap a clean bandage around his wound. He ladled some stew into a bowl and carefully propped him up.

The bathwater would run cold and he would have to heat it up again but it was worth it, knowing that Chanyeol was alive and would be perfectly alright.

“Feels like magic,” Chanyeol murmured as he fed him the stew, brushing his hair out of his face periodically.

Junmyeon could not remember the last time he had been this close to anyone in proximity. His heart stuttered a little when Chanyeol closed his lips around the spoon, humming contentedly.

“The next time you get yourself hurt, stay with the army,” he chided when the bowl was empty and Chanyeol was curling against his shoulder, half asleep with his face buried into the crook of his neck as if he meant to stay awhile.

“I did not wish worry you by not coming home,” Chanyeol mumbled sleepily and Junmyeon’s heart expanded almost three times its size.

“I worry more if you come home in such a state,” Junmyeon replied but there was no heat to his tone.

He tugged on Chanyeol’s curls lightly and pecked his forehead.

“Come now. Let’s get you into a bath and to a proper bed. Your waist will not appreciate your sleeping in a couch so small.”

They grew even closer when Junmyeon made Chanyeol stay home to recuperate, the sizzling tension between them finally roiling to a boil when Chanyeol was almost completely recovered and no longer needed Junmyeon to help him in the bath.

“Stay.”

A hand shot out of the water, curling around Junmyeon’s wrist before he could leave and Junmyeon froze.

Chanyeol was staring at him from inside the tub, his gaze soft.

The steam from the water made Junmyeon’s cheeks flush as he returned to Chanyeol’s side, carefully dipping his sponge into the scented water.

“You can manage on your own now,” he murmured under his breath even as he swiped the sponge across Chanyeol’s back, watching the soap drip in milky rivulets down his skin.

Almost without thinking, he wrapped his hand around his shoulder, kneading the muscles gently, just the way Yixing liked him to do and Chanyeol arched, tilting his head back with a low moan of appreciation.

“That feels good,” he groaned, setting Junmyeon’s face aflame.

“Do- do you want me to…” Junmyeon could not finish his sentence but Chanyeol was already nodding, turning with a splash so that he could reach his back better.

“Please,” he murmured and Junmyeon ducked his head, moistening his lips almost unconsciously.

Chanyeol’s back was smooth and he could feel the muscles moving beneath his fingertips as he put aside the sponge and pressed his thumbs into the flesh, sucking in a sharp breath when Chanyeol moaned.

It was difficult to ignore the tightening of his breeches as he worked the kinks out of Chanyeol’s tight back, listening to Chanyeol moan with pleasure whenever he rubbed at a particularly stubborn knot.

He was hot under his collar, swallowing tightly whenever Chanyeol flexed, working his way as far down as he could reach.

“This would work so much better on the bed,” Chanyeol murmured huskily and the implication in his words made Junmyeon’s lashes flutter and his mouth go dry.

“Per…Perhaps next time,” he stuttered, finally releasing Chanyeol’s shoulders from his grasp.

Chanyeol leaned back, a confident smirk tugging on his lips and Junmyeon did not know if he wanted to smack him or kiss him.

Perhaps his eyes lingered a little too long on Chanyeol’s lips as the man stirred, shifting to rise out of the tub.

Junmyeon squeaked, snatching up a towel to hide his face as Chanyeol stepped out, completely nude, his presence like a live match, almost too hot to bear.

A hand grasped his elbow and he gasped when he was pulled closer, Chanyeol towering over him.

He forced his eyes up, fingers balling in the towel as Chanyeol thumbed at the corner of his lips, his touch burning a trail as he caressed Junmyeon’s face, looking at him as if he was the most precious thing in the world.

“May I?”

Junmyeon tilted his head up, sighing when their lips met, the tension that had been sizzling between them finally sparking when Chanyeol’s big hand curled around the back of his head, pulling him close.

He dropped his towel, resting his hands onto Chanyeol’s naked hips, gasping when Chanyeol deepened the kiss, tongue flicking out to lick at his bottom lip in askance.

The scent of Chanyeol’s lavender bath oils contrasted so sharply against his natural musk but it was so familiar, so _Chanyeol_ that Junmyeon wanted _more._

“We- It’s cold,” he gasped when they parted, his fingers digging so hard into Chanyeol’s flesh that it was sure to bruise, “you should get dressed.”

Chanyeol’s lashes fluttered when he leant down, their noses brushing.

“Wait for me in bed,” he murmured and Junmyeon stumbled out of the bathroom, his breaths coming out in pants and his cheeks so flushed that they were practically on fire.

He sucked in a breath of the cold night air, fanning at his face weakly.

When was the last time he had felt like this about anyone?

Junmyeon tugged at the bedcovers, straightening them listlessly as he waited, his pounding heart too loud in his ears.

Chanyeol’s getting dressed, involved only a robe, it seemed as he strode into the bedroom moments later when Junmyeon was drawing the drapes on the windows.

Hands settled on his waist and he spun around.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon gasped when he was kissed, so fiercely that the breath was snatched out of his lungs.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Chanyeol whispered against his lips, fingers tearing at his clothes and Junmyeon whined, high in his throat as his tunic was ripped aside.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Fingers thumbed against his nipples and Junmyeon arched, gasping. His back pressed against the wooden ledge of the window and he groaned, hands flying out to catch Chanyeol’s waist and pull him closer.

Chanyeol’s hands slid down his body, curving around his thighs and his lips found his in a passionate kiss, licking into Junmyeon’s mouth in a way that made his knees buckle and his legs turn to jelly.

“Chanyeol, Chanyeol, I-!” Junmyeon cut himself off on a moan when Chanyeol lifted him off the floor, bearing his entire weight in his arms.

“Your wound!” he gasped, shivering when Chanyeol chuckled lowly, his chest vibrating as he bore him to the bed, setting him down with the fondest look in his eyes.

“It is already healed,” Chanyeol murmured, brushing aside a lock of Junmyeon’s hair that had fallen into his eyes.

In answer, Junmyeon tilted his head up to kiss him, gasping into his mouth when Chanyeol took the opportunity to push him onto the bed, one hand splaying over his abdomen.

“Are you a virgin?” Chanyeol asked as he stripped Junmyeon off his tunic, fingers tugging off his breeches easily.

Junmyeon shook his head, though his cheeks flushed at the darkening of Chanyeol’s eyes.

“I’ve laid with someone before,” he confessed and Chanyeol growled lowly, dipping down to mouth at his collarbones, his robe sliding off to join Junmyeon’s clothes on the floor.

“Well, I’ll make you forget him.”

Chanyeol’s tone was full of promise as he spanned Junmyeon’s waist with a single hand and Junmyeon gulped, though his blood was singing, his body burning at Chanyeol’s touch.

He was achingly hard as Chanyeol ghosted his hand along his body, brushing over his swollen member so delicately that he hardly felt it.

  
His hips twitched and Chanyeol smirked, bending to kiss the tip of his length and Junmyeon shuddered.

“Chanyeol,” he groaned as he tipped backwards on the bed, spreading his legs on his own accord, “please take me.”

Chanyeol’s eyes gleamed with delight as he spread him even wider, his lips curling into an infuriating smile as he skated his fingers along the sensitive skin of Junmyeon’s inner thigh, scratching lightly just to make him shiver.

“With pleasure.”

-

“Why do you hide?” Baekhyun was loud, demanding yet Yixing still let him through.

He had to be able to see his shadow, for he followed Yixing when he could, cradling his precious dragon in his arms like a child.

Under Baekhyun’s careful attention, the dragon had blossomed, healed and restored to its usual demeanor, though it detested Yixing now, hissing and spitting whenever he went close to its nest.

Yixing tried not to let it get to him, the spite of a little creature.

It was beneath him to care so, he tried to tell himself, tried to segregate himself away from the rest of the Fair Folk.

He missed Junmyeon with an aching need, his beautiful little dove who could do no wrong.

Not even if his seduction of the king’s general had brought him to the Moors in search of the flowers to heal Balthazar’s poison.

The trees told all and Yixing’s heart ached a little more whenever he thought of his precious dove, so far away from him and so deep within the humans and all their evils. Perhaps that was the reason why he watched Baekhyun whenever he came, leaving Balthazar to fight the war without him.

“Because you fear me,” he answered and Baekhyun scoffed.

He was so close, standing on the cusp of two trees that hid Yixing in shadow, concealing his face.

“You have not harmed me yet, though I suppose you have no reason to. You have already cursed me.”

Yixing laughed to himself, waving his hand dismissively.

“You have only a few days left before you turn. Yet you spend your time here, in the Moors, fraternizing with the enemy. What would your lover say?”

Baekhyun’s anger was amusing to him, like a puppy bristling at his words.

“Yifan is kind and he knows of my bond.”  
  


“Yet he keeps you home, surrounded by iron walls and no way for a faerie creature to get through.”

“You got through.”

The venom in Baekhyun’s voice stung but Yixing flung it aside. He was only a human boy, so tiny, a little speck in Yixing’s eyes.

“Well perhaps he ought to reinforce his walls then,” he said, folding his hands before him primly.

“You’re evil and monstrous,” Baekhyun spat and Yixing shrugged. He had heard worst.

The soldiers on the battlefields had filthy mouths and they came up with the most creative curses when he appeared on Balthazar’s shoulder, summoning creatures from the very depths of the earth to crush them beneath their feet.

“Not all who are monstrous were born that way,” he whispered softly. He did not need to explain himself to this puny mortal.


	2. II

Baekhyun felt the change as it came, like a shadow in the creeping dark night.

His bones cracked and shifted and the pain bloomed behind his temples, exploding like a firecracker, fire consuming his blood.

“Yifan, Yifan!” he screamed, flinging the covers off the bed. He rolled, the pain from striking the floor almost nonexistent compared to the pain flaring throughout his entire body.

There was blood in his mouth, metallic and salty, his vision blurring even as Yifan ran to his side.

The air was being pulled out of his lungs and he heard Yifan calling his name. It sounded like he was underwater, the words bubbly and incoherent.

“No- don’t-,” he gasped when Yifan tried to touch him, to move him, fingers digging _into_ the floor, the marble cracking beneath his fingertips like brittle eggshells.

“Please, get away!” he screamed again as white smoke poured from the cracks in the floor, reminiscent of his wedding day, when Yixing had left, despair and destruction in his wake. He had never hated anyone so much in his life as his humanity left him and everything became a blur.

The door burst open and soldiers appeared, carrying iron lances and spears.

There was so much shouting and Baekhyun’s ears hurt from it, his blooding singing, bubbling and boiling as he backed away on all fours, knocking the lamp from the night stand.

It fell over, shattering against his body but he did not feel it.

His body was encased, as if he was wearing armor and the sight of the iron made him bristle, fear and instinct warring in his chest.

Yifan was kneeling before him, speaking to him but his words made no sense, a garble of noise that only served frighten him further as he was backed into a wall, the soldiers coming ever closer with their iron weapons.

Baekhyun roared and the guards made the mistake of lunging.

Terror was a wildfire that ran amok in Baekhyun’s heart. He ran without thinking and a guard flung out a net despite Yifan’s cries.

The iron _burned._

With a screech of agony, Baekhyun reared, thrashing even as Yifan came towards him. His claws gleamed in the moonlight as they sliced through flesh, Yifan’s scream piercing his eardrums.

There was blood on the floor, blood on Yifan’s face when he collapsed, clutching at the left side of his face.

Baekhyun did not stop to see what he had done.

All his instincts told him to do was to _run._

So he did.

The guards chased him, saddling horses, with iron swords and spears. They shot their arrows, which only bounced harmlessly off Baekhyun’s scaled back.

Baekhyun ran for the wilderness, the freedom he had always known.

He crashed through the bridge, his senses going into overdrive as the shouting began and the smell of men in iron armor began to overwhelm him.

The Moors screamed for him, the wind blowing in his face and he could almost taste the freedom.

But the thorns stopped him.

He skidded, throwing dirt in his wake as he was forced to a standstill before the thorny wall, his usual gap too small to accommodate his new size.

Baekhyun wailed, a shrill agonizing cry that carried through the night. His terror pumped through his bloodstream, adrenaline a rushing river that made him whirl around and face the oncoming soldiers, slashing and biting with his claws and teeth.

For his freedom.

The screams of the humans dying rang in his ears even as he struck them down, his long claws cutting through their thin chain mail as if it were made of butter.

Weariness seeped through him and he became careless.

An iron blade wedged itself into a space between his scales and he shrieked, a banshee cry as he scrabbled to get it out.

The iron was poison to him now, burning like a flame that would never go out. It seared against his flesh as he arched and thrashed, screaming like a wild animal.

Which seemed appropriate.

He was now a wild beast, in the eyes of the humans, no longer their beloved king consort.

Perhaps he was destined to die like that, a beast, slain by his own kin, who had striven so hard to break the curse placed onto him not by any fault of his.

Baekhyun cried out when he collapsed, another dagger finding the softness of his underbelly. He saw a shape with curled horns and white smoke before everything blissfully went silent.

-

The beast was huge.

For Baekhyun’s tiny size, Yixing had not expected him to turn into something quite so large, large enough that he could ride upon.

He was bleeding, his human blood stark red on the grass, like the flowers that the faeries turned into when they died, their essence imbued within and the humans were merely staring, not attacking.

Yixing could let him die.

He would, if the humans decided to put him out of his misery. One iron blade to the heart and Baekhyun would cease to exist.

But somewhere, somehow, the stupid little human had grown on him and now even though he was no longer human, Yixing could still find beauty in his new shape, a wyvern with glittering copper scales and curved tail.

It would be a pity to lose such a beautiful creature.

Yixing waved his hand, curling his fingers delicately as wisps of smoke began to flutter from his fingertips, gathering around Baekhyun’s head.

_Wake up now, beastie. Get up and come home._

The humans muttered amongst themselves when the wyvern rose, its eyes dazed and rolled back in its head.

Yixing unfurled a section of thorns and the creature stumbled through, the thorns sealing back quickly before the human soldiers could get any ideas of following him through.

Baekhyun’s scales were warm beneath his fingertips and silky smooth, the creature completely unconscious when Yixing touched him, checking for any other injuries save for the two blades stuck into his body.

The blades would have to be removed before Yixing could heal him and Yixing’s skin crawled with goosebumps at the very thought of having to touch them.

He magicked them away, back to his den, Baekhyun nearly too big to fit inside the cave.

The blades would cause him much pain and he would much rather be alone to bear it, rather than the entire forest hear him scream.

Yixing gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut as he reached for the first iron knife, lodged in between Baekhyun’s scales on his back.

He could still remember Yifan’s iron chains on his back, burning away his wings even with the drugs in his system and he was in no hurry to feel the pain again.

Baekhyun made a sound and Yixing set his jaw, closing his fingers around the hilt.

With a scream, he yanked out the blade, flinging it away, to somewhere deep in his cave.

There were tears gathering in his eyes as he cradled his hand close, gasping as the pain seared through him, down to his bones.

The things he did for a stupid wyvern of his own making.

Yixing seized hold of the last dagger, unable to hold back the shrieks of agony that spilled from his lips as he pulled out the weapon, dropping it onto the ground next to him.

He gasped, his heart pounding in his chest, suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath.

His white hand was marked with the hilt of the knives, dark scars against his milk white skin.

They would fade with time but the pain in that moment was agonizing, slicing through him and there was no Junmyeon to hold him this time.

Yixing sobbed, folding his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth as he cradled his injured hand.

He wanted Junmyeon home.

But Junmyeon was not here and he was alone, with a creature big enough to crush him if it wanted to, unconscious at his feet.

Yixing exhaled, blowing out a breath as if that would lessen the pain.

He crouched over Baekhyun, holding his uninjured hand over the ghastly wounds still dripping blood, wisps of white smoke gathering at the wound.

The wounds were healed, as much as he could, but Baekhyun could not stay here.

He could crush him and destroy his den with a careless sweep of his tail.

Yixing squeezed his eyes shut, summoning the very last reserves of energy within him to reach out, calling for every faerie that lived within the Moors.

A cloud of glittering pixies arrived, sleep deprived and confused, Baekhyun’s friend Thistlewit among them.

“I need you to take him somewhere safe,”.”

Yixing rose to his feet, unsteady.

He kept his burnt hand close to his body, so that the faeries could not see the damage.

“He will be alright now.”

The faeries obeyed, using their magic as one to lift the giant body of the wyvern out of the cave.

Yixing was about to crawl into bed, but he could not help but notice Thistlewit’s lingering glance, the faerie fluttering in the middle of the doorway timidly.

“What is it?”

He did not mean for his tone come out so sharp but he was tired, exhausted.

The iron had hurt him more than he realised.

“Nothing, milord,” the pixie murmured, casting his gaze down. His eyes widened a fraction before he was darting out after his comrades, leaving behind only wisps of faerie dust.

Yixing collapsed into his nest, drawing the sheet up around his shoulders as he began to shake, the iron burns bleeding pain into his body.

The exhaustion drew him to dreamland but his sleep was far from restful.

He tossed and turned in his nest, crying and gasping for Junmyeon, the phantom pain of the chains on his back aching when he rose again, unrested.

The sky was still dark, but the distant horizon was beginning to turn gray, the sun spilling its rays into the world.

Yixing closed his eyes when he emerged from his den, the grass damp with dew drops beneath his feet, trying to swallow back the lump that had balled itself in his throat.

Perhaps he would go see where the faeries had hidden Baekhyun, just for some peace of mind.

He glanced at his injured hand as he walked, his robes dragging out behind him in the wet grass, the skin still dark and painful.

A soft chittering caught his attention and he turned to see Thistlewit fluttering out from behind a flower, bearing a milk sap petal in his tiny hands.

“This will help the pain, milord,” he chattered softly, landing upon Yixing’s wrist.

Yixing bit down hard on his lip when the faerie pressed the petal down firmly on his skin, the pollen sac popping open to spill white powder over his hand.

“Thank you,” he murmured, giving the faerie a rare smile.

Thistlewit fluttered ahead of him, showering the ground with glittering faerie dust as he went.

The faeries had hidden Baekhyun well, in a cusp of willow trees with long trailing branches close to the pools where they could easily fetch him water.

Yixing knelt quietly at the wyvern’s side, gently brushing a hand over his long neck.

He could not expand any more magic to help him.

Baekhyun would have to heal on his own.

A group of faeries hovered before him, chittering amongst themselves before one was pushed out, an orange held in its palms.

Yixing took the orange, grimacing when he flexed his scarred hand.

It was awkward, trying to peel the orange without hurting his hand but the faeries helped, tugging at the stubborn peel once he got an edge up until the entire fruit was revealed.

Yixing halved the orange, sticking the slivers into his mouth, savouring the burst of flavor before prying open Baekhyun’s mouth and dropping it in.

There was a collective gasp when the wyvern moved, eyes blinking open.

Baekhyun was frozen for a moment, as if confused but then anger overtook the confusion and he lurched to his feet, spitting the orange out onto the ground to the faeries’ dismay.

Yixing was relieved but also afraid, for the lashing tail of the wyvern told him all he needed to know.

Baekhyun was angry and more than ready to attack. Evidently, Yixing’s magic had healed him too well.

_You’re a beast!_

He snarled and Yixing stepped back, his staff materializing at his side. His hand went to grasp it, forgetting the burns and he cursed aloud, yanking his hand away when the contact only caused him more pain.

“I think you’re the beast,” he said calmly, picking up the staff with his other hand, clutching the injured one close to his chest, “it is about time I leave.”

His magic folded about him but it was still a rush, to see Baekhyun lunge, his heart racing in his chest before he popped into existence just inside of the thorn wall, where he could still hear the soldiers, chopping away at his poor thorns.

Balthazar must be sleeping, if the guards had ventured so close to the wall.

Yixing flicked his wrist absently, listening to the humans scream as more thorns grew from where they had cut, presumably cutting some of them down.

He tried to ignore the throbbing of his hand, pacing along the thorn walls for as far as he could, trying to revel in the fact that his curse had already fallen.

Should he not feel joy in Yifan’s misery?

Then why did he feel even darker inside, more sorrowful that he had been before?

-

Adjusting to life on four limbs and a tail was strange and an experience that Baekhyun never thought he would have to go through but he did.

The faeries always hovered around him, watching him as if he was a newborn toddler. He did feel like one, waddling around on an extra set of limbs and a big weighty tail that moved and sometimes did things to throw him off balance.

He learnt to drink the water from the pools with his long forked tongue and shake the fruits from the branches so that he could eat.

The faeries brought him meat, when it became apparent that fruits and nuts were too insubstantial for a creature such as he and Baekhyun did his best not to think about where the meat came from, fresh, raw and bleeding.

For the first weeks, he confined himself to the glade, learning to walk and communicate with his strange new vocalisations.

He mourned the loss of his voice, for now he could only hiss and make noises that made his skin crawl but the faeries did not seemed bothered at all, cooing at him whenever he tried to make conversation.

Yixing never came back to visit him and Baekhyun was glad for it.

He would maul him if he did, tear his flesh to strips and gouge out his eyes for what he had done, what he had _made_ him do to Yifan.

Baekhyun did wonder about the knives, if the faeries had pulled them out so that the wounds would not fester or did Yixing magic them out. Why he had saved him from the guards, Baekhyun would never know and he did not desire to know.

He wanted to live out the rest of his life, or as much of it as he could, in peace and without seeing any sign of Yixing.

Sometimes the faeries grew to be too much and Baekhyun would wander out of the glade, seeking solace in the shade of an old oak tree or perhaps a cusp of elder trees. He would curled up beneath them and fall asleep, dreaming of the old days, when he had been human and all he knew was Yifan, the lord who had fallen in love with a peasant boy.

It was on one of his excursions that he heard the trees whispering, as if they were speaking.

Baekhyun pretended to be asleep, pushing his snout tighter under his tail.

_“Did you hear? Yixing saved the boy.”_

_“What boy?”_

_“The boy he cursed. It’s the one that sleeps beneath our branches now.”_

_“Save him? Why?”_

_“I don’t know. But the faeries say he pulled the iron blades from his flesh himself.”_

_“Ouch! Did he burn?”_

_“Of course he did, you dim wit! He’s fae isn’t he?”_

_“But he’s a human. Why would Yixing bear the pain of iron to save him?”_

_“I wouldn’t know. But you know the faeries. They like to talk.”_

_“And they never lie.”_

_“Truth. You speak truth.”_

Yixing had pulled the iron blades himself?

Baekhyun snorted.

Perhaps the faeries had exaggerated.

Yixing did not seem like the type who would bear pain for a stranger that he cursed, nor feel guilt or pity.

He curled tighter into himself, prepared to fall asleep but the trees whispered again, even more hushed this time, as if it were a secret that they did not dare to even speak aloud.

_“This boy. Why did Yixing curse him?”_

_“Have you been sleeping? His human lover stole his wings to become king and this boy is **his** lover.”_

_“The king’s lover? Oh, this will bring nothing good to the Moors.”_

_“You think? They’re on the other side of the wall even now, slicing away with their iron blades. One day, they’ll find Yixing vulnerable and mark my words, they will kill him.”_

_“Hush now. Such things should not be said aloud.”_

Baekhyun gasped, rising to his feet. The trees gasped too, it seemed and their rustling branches stilled.

Yifan had taken Yixing as his lover before him? Was that why Yixing had spoken so familiarly with him, why he had been so bitter at their union? And his wings!

Baekhyun had never seen any Fair folk without wings but now that he thought about it, recalled what Yixing looked like in his mind, he could see now that Yixing did not have his, though his flowing cape often made it look like he had them folded down on his back.

He wondered what Yixing’s wings had looked like, if they had been big enough to carry him through the skies, to fly like the other faeries did.

No wonder he was so miserable.

Baekhyun would too, if he had tasted the skies and was bound to the ground.

He loped off, his mind buzzing with questions that needed answers, answers from Yixing himself, whom he had heard was at the border every day now, watching the war.

But there was no sign of the faerie when he arrived, only the clanging of metal ringing in his ears.

The vines had grown thicker, so much so that Baekhyun could not see through the spaces between them anymore. He pawed at it mournfully before turning away.

“They’ll kill you if you left.”

Even though he sympathized with the faerie now, the sound of Yixing’s voice was enough to make him bristle.

“They don’t see you as you were before.”

Yixing appeared before the wall, as if he had been there the entire time, just not visible to the naked eye.

He looked smaller than before, tiredness lacing his tone, leaning on his staff rather than holding it. Baekhyun could see the burns the iron had left on his skin in his palm.

So it was true then.

The great ruler of the Moors had pulled iron blades from his back with his bare hand.

Baekhyun huffed, swishing his tail back and forth.

There was a loud roar and they both turned to see Balthazar scowling, teeth bared as he swung his massive sword back and forth, cutting down soldiers in his path. There were men flying into the air and the ground rumbled beneath their feet, thin cracks appearing in the soil as the earth dragon swam through the dirt as if it were water.

Yixing sighed and vanished before Baekhyun could say another word, only the screaming of angry men a cacophony in Baekhyun’s ears.

He did not see Yixing until he returned that night, alone, one hand gripping his staff so tightly that his knuckles were white.

He was ethereal in the moonlight, even with his face smudged with dirt, one hand clasped to his side as if he had been wounded badly.

His footsteps were loud in the silence, crunching through the chirping of the cicadas.

Baekhyun watched him from under the cover of the bushes he hid in, tail swishing as he limped through the forest, towards the stream.

All the faeries were asleep and there was no one to help him dress his wound when he collapsed by the stream, the hem of his robes dipping into the clear water.

He looked as if he was in terrible pain when he groaned, pressing a dirty hand over his lips so as not to disturb the sleeping fae.

Baekhyun’s heart twisted a little.

He looked so lonely.

Yixing looked up when he slipped out from the undergrowth, padding towards him, tail twitching.

He slowed when he got closer, Yixing staring at him warily as if expecting him to lunge and claw his eyes out.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked, grimacing. He set down his staff, reaching to undo his robe and Baekhyun leaned away, turning his head so that he could give him some privacy.

_Thinking,_ he answered, nosing at Yixing’s staff. Baekhyun curled his tail around himself, settling down to watch as Yixing cupped his hands, dipping them into the stream to clean the dirt off.

“What could you bring thinking about to keep you up so late?” Yixing asked and Baekhyun moved his shoulders in a poor imitation of a human shrug.

The moonlight glinted off Yixing’s pale skin and as he shrugged off his robe, Baekhyun could see the painful looking scar that ran across his abdomen.

_What happened?_ he asked, leaning over to get a proper look at it. Yixing dribbled cold water onto the wound, his nose scrunching up in pain.

“Humans,” he said simply and Baekhyun huffed, pulling away to lie down in the grass, setting his chin atop his folded forelegs.

_Not all humans are bad, you know._

“I used to think like that,” Yixing sighed, reaching out to stroke a hand over Baekhyun’s head almost absently. Baekhyun leaned into the touch, surprising both himself and Yixing. He purred softly as Yixing petted him, his claws digging into the dirt with pleasure. “Until Yifan betrayed me. And now, I want them all gone, if only because I know the Moors would flourish without them.”

Baekhyun shuddered, nudging Yixing’s hand away. He was still partially naked, his robes pooling around his waist, exposing the wound on his body.

_You can’t kill them all. Humans make mistakes. Our flaws, that’s what makes us human,_ he said, pulling away when Yixing tried to pet him again, whining.

“Your human flaws cost me my wings and my freedom,” Yixing replied, but there was no heat to his tone, only resignation. He looked up at the stars winking down at them from the skies, a soft breeze ruffling his long hair. “They will cost many more lives.”

Moments like those came more often.

Baekhyun discovered that Yixing preferred to be alone, whether injured or no. The faeries said he had been different before Yifan, that he had walked amongst them and asked them about their day. But now he walked alone, often at night, checking on the Fair folk that lived in his glade.

He slept alone too, in the den built into a pile of rocks. It was high enough that the trolls and gnomes would not venture up but still low enough that he would not have to walk far.

Baekhyun visited him at his den, choosing to sleep there when he could, just to keep him company.

Yixing listened when he talked, about his human life before Yifan, living so close to the Moors and how he had bonded with Neithea.

Perhaps it was those talks that made Yixing lower his guard, his gaze softening when Baekhyun helped him realise that he _did_ understand what it felt like to live on the Moors, to play with the faeries as if they were his friends.

Baekhyun was not the enemy and never had been.

He allowed Baekhyun into his nest sometimes, when he needed the company, the wyvern curled up half in and half out of the nest, radiating warmth.

“You remind me so much of Junmyeon,” he murmured, his fingers stroking over Baekhyun’s head. It was nice and Baekhyun could not resist purring like a cat as he rubbed his head and snout. “He was strong and brave but he bent to my will. So loyal.”

His words trailed off, Baekhyun snuggling closer. He was displacing some of the branches but Yixing did not seem to mind, running his hand along the line of his throat.

_Why did you save me?_ Baekhyun asked. The question had been on the tip of his tongue for many days now and he had just now gathered the courage to ask. _You could have let them kill me._

Yixing shot him a sour look, twisting around so that he was settled more firmly in the depths of the nest, Baekhyun draping half over him like a blanket of sorts.

“You’re one of us now, Baekhyun. Whether you like it or not. I protect my own kind,” he said stiffly, wrapping his arm around Baekhyun’s neck, burrowing his head into the warmth.

Baekhyun snorted, blinking his eyes several times.

It was a rather nice thought, though his human side protested against it, that Yixing would not harm him now. Perhaps they would have peace, even with a war raging outside. At least they had the thorns to protect them.

Yixing was cunning but it seemed that the General was far more cunning than he for a small coup of humans found their way into the Moors somehow, to where Baekhyun slept, unsuspecting.

He only discovered them when it was too late, when the iron of the net burrowed into his flesh and he awoke shrieking, to Yixing looming over them, his staff raised in anger.

Baekhyun cringed back at the smell of charred flesh emitting from Yixing’s hand. His fingers were closed around a strand of the net, his skin smoking from where it made contact with the iron.

With a roar, the ground exploded, the men’s screaming filling Baekhyun’s ears as Yixing yanked the net off him, his hand trembling as he reached to touch Baekhyun’s cheek, fury clouding his eyes.

Baekhyun whimpered when Yixing slammed the butt of his spear into the ground and a tree warrior roared.

“Seal all exits, Balthazar,” Yixing said coldly, “do your worst.”

To Baekhyun, his eyes softened, the tightness in his expression loosening into the soft creases of worry. His touch was tender as he traced over the marks that the net had made, white smoke fluttering away in wisps.

Baekhyun pressed his muzzle into his hand, unable to contain his soft sigh of relief.

-

It was a bloodbath.

The horror and fury on Yixing’s face was so great that Baekhyun could hardly bear to look upon him, whimpering as he licked his wounds.

There were so many of them. His scales were thick and protected him well but the soldiers used iron, slicing gashes in his scaly hide while Baekhyun tried to protect as many faeries as he could.

The beautiful clearing where the faeries once lived had been destroyed. Clear streams filled with green and blue blood as the water dragons dragged themselves out of the water, only to collapse onto the shore, never to wake again.

So many pixies and trolls lay dying upon the bright green grass, so many more already dead. The trees bled, weeping amber sap over the grass, the stone dams so carefully built by the water sprites collapsed and desolate.

Neithea was one of the many fallen, his little body curled up beside Thistlewit, who laid in Yixing’s hands, his words so soft Baekhyun could hardly hear him.

It was the only time, Baekhyun had ever seen Yixing cry.

Great tears of rage fell from the faerie’s eyes, dripping onto Thistlewit’s body as he wept for the homeland he had failed to protect.

“Junmyeon,” Yixing cried, his body trembling as he clutched the pixie’s dead body close to him. His hands were shaking, covered with iron burns. “Junmyeon!”

He screamed the name with so much agony that Baekhyun could almost feel his anguish.

The earth exploded in white smoke, Yixing’s magic spreading uncontrollably, digging roots into the earth, leeching into the water, the air.

All around them, the forest fell asleep, the pain of the dying easing.

Yixing was unsteady when he rose, his robes trailing behind him as he clutched his staff, tears pooling in his eyes.

There was a soft flapping and a white dove fluttered into view, practically shedding feathers with how quickly it was flying.

Before the pretty bird could land, it was already changing, shifting into the shape of a man so lovely that Baekhyun could hardly tear his eyes away. He was also very naked but that did not seem to bother Yixing as he flung his arms around the man, buryng his face into the crook of his neck.

The man said nothing, only holding Yixing close, hand trailing up and down on Yixing’s back until his anguished sobs let up and he could stand upright again.

“Junmyeon.” The tone in Yixing’s voice was nothing like Baekhyun had ever heard before and the fondness in his eyes was enough to make the green snake of jealousy rear its head in Baekhyun’s chest.

He took a tiny step out of his hiding place, wincing as he did so but none of them seemed to notice him.

Yixing trailed a hand against the man, Junmyeon’s cheek, and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in a furious kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured.

Baekhyun could see tension in Junmyeon’s face and shoulders as he held Yixing at arms’ length, hand gripping tightly around Yixing’s shoulder.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Yixing’s eyes fluttered close and he leaned his forehead against Junmyeon’s, their noses brushing.

“Kill him,” he whispered, so low that Baekhyun almost missed the words. His words were trembling as he said them, the hand curled around Junmyeon’s shoulder digging into his flesh. “Kill the man who has done this to our home.”

“Chanyeol?” There was the tiniest wobble in Junmyeon’s voice when he spoke, soft and lilting. “You want me to kill Chanyeol.”

Yixing nodded, regret tainting his tone when he spoke again, fingers sliding along Junmyeon’s jaw so intimately, lifting his chin up so that he could kiss him again.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, my dear. I’m sorry I kept you away for so long. You must miss home.”

Junmyeon’s jaw worked as he pulled away, head bowed.

Yixing tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear tenderly and Baekhyun wondered if he missed the pain flitting across Junmyeon’s eyes when he pulled the man close.

“Finish him, Junmyeonnie. Finish this and I can have you again.”

He kissed Junmyeon once more, thumbing over his cheekbone. Junmyeon melted into him, emitting soft pants from his throat as Yixing kissed him hard, hands falling to hold the faerie’s hips.

“Is there anything that you desire, Junmyeon? Anything that you can ask for now?”

Junmyeon’s lips parted at the question as if he would say something but the only thing he said was: “just you, Master. I want to come home to you.”

Yixing dropped a kiss on his nose, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“You have your knife?”

At Junmyeon’s nod, he continued.

“Cut out his heart, my beautiful dove. Bring it to me and we can be together again.”

Junmyeon bowed his head but Baekhyun could still see the tremor in his lips as he spoke.

“As you wish.”

With a flick of his hand, the man transformed back into a bird and flew away, up in the light blue sky.

Yixing gave a little sigh and turned to Baekhyun, as if he had known he was there all along. He waved his hand at him and Baekhyun stepped out, growling softly.

He knew who Chanyeol was, knew what he meant to Yifan. Yifan would be devastated if he lost him, his closest friend and advisor.

But Chanyeol was also the one who had brought such destruction upon the Moors. He had armed his men, allowing them to run amok, killing innocent creatures for their differences.

The body of Thistlewit and Neithea still lay where Yixing had set them down and Yixing picked them up again, smoothing his fingers over Neithea’s head. They would be buried, along with the others in the faeries’ glade and their essences would cause bloom to as many flowers as there were souls.

Baekhyun swung his tail, wincing with every step until they arrived at the glade, Yixing silent the entire walk.

“He will not hurt him,” Yixing murmured.

Baekhyun almost did not know what he was talking about.

Yixing laid the faeries down onto the ground, fingers digging into the dirt as he spoke.

“Junmyeon will not hurt him.”

_Why did you ask him then, if you knew he was incapable of hurting him?_

Baekhyun asked, digging a claw into the dirt. The soil was moist and soft and moved easily with his motions, a hole quickly forming.

There was dirt under Yixing’s fingernails as he picked up the faeries, laying them into the hole.

A tear plopped down onto the still bodies and Baekhyun grimaced when Yixing wiped at his face, seemingly unaware of the dirt on his hands.

“He will do anything I ask of him,” Yixing said, rising to his feet. He left the ground uncovered and Baekhyun could only follow, padding along beside him as they went back and forth between the glade and the clearing, carrying as many bodies as they could.

The moonflowers would bloom brightly that night, with so many souls buried in the ground, red petals waving.

_But he will not kill?_

Yixing looked at him when he spoke, taking his bottom lip in his teeth. He shook his head, sorrow clouding his eyes as he laid the faeries to rest in the soil, the soft glow that usually hung about his person oddly dim.

“Not this man. I can feel it.”

Baekhyun butted his head against Yixing’s hand, wishing he had the words to comfort him. He was torn between telling him that everything was going to be alright, that Junmyeon loved him above Chanyeol and his own raging jealousy over Yixing’s obvious affections for the dove.

-

Yixing’s words plagued him when he returned, with dirt on his feet and Yixing’s kisses heavy in his heart.

Junmyeon stared at the wall as dinner cooked, almost completely unaware of the food burning until Chanyeol stepped into the room with a tired smile that quickly morphed into alarm.

“Junmyeon!”

He rushed over, dousing the flames that had sprung up on the stove with a bucket of water that they kept nearby.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Junmyeon stuttered, dropping the ladle into the pot.

He saw Chanyeol in his mind, lying in bed with a bloody gash in his chest when his heart should be. The very thought of being the one to carve it out made him sick and he lifted a hand to his mouth, bile rising up in his throat.

“Hey, hey.” Chanyeol shook his arm gently, snapping Junmyeon out of his visions. A thumb traced over his cheek and Junmyeon shuddered.

“I’m alright,” he murmured, “just a little dizzy.”

“What are you thinking of? You look so frightened.”

Junmyeon was not aware that his fear had made it up onto his face. He chewed his lip, shaking his head when Chanyeol tried to take his hand.

“I’m alright,” he insisted. “I’m sorry I burnt dinner.”

Chanyeol laughed incredulously and Junmyeon could only follow as he was led over to the couch and sat down, Chanyeol tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

The gesture made him shiver.

He could remember the look in Yixing’s eyes when he had done the same thing.

_Kill him._

“I don’t care about dinner, Junmyeon. You’re as white as a sheet and I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Junmyeon said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Chanyeol was still staring at him, his brows creased with concern and it hurt him.

What would he think if he knew who he truly was? Would he kill him? The same way his men took all those innocent lives in the Moors?

Yixing would not have asked him to kill Chanyeol if those men had not made their way past the wall somehow and slaughtered the innocent Fair folk living peacefully in the valley.

So many moonflowers would bloom that night because of the mindless slaughter, beauty in the wake of a tragedy.

Junmyeon shook his head again, leaning up to press his lips against Chanyeol’s forehead and then his lips, savouring the way Chanyeol sighed against him, relaxing into his arms. He pushed the lingering guilt away, wrapping the general up in his arms.

Just one more night, he told himself, thinking of the silver knife hidden beneath his pillow.

Just one more night.

One night turned two nights and two nights into three.

His sleep was not restful, the guilt sitting like a rock in his stomach. He laid awake at night when Chanyeol was asleep, watching the moonlight spill in from the window, lighting upon Chanyeol’s body.

Junmyeon reached over, tracing his thumb over Chanyeol’s cheek.

He had come home that day all bloody, covered in green and red. Some of it his own blood but most of it Fae.

Junmyeon had washed it all off without a word, allowing him to touch him, taint him with his blood soaked hands.

How many? He wondered.

How many had Chanyeol killed? Struck down with the blade of his iron sword? How many more did he leave dying, the tree soldiers bleeding green?

The borders were even tighter now, Yixing taking no chances. He had called more warriors, more creatures from the very depths of the Moors to do his bidding and Junmyeon had heard word that the king would do anything in his power to get his husband back, in beast or human form.

The fighting was getting worse by the day and every day that he delayed in his task, was more lives lost.

Junmyeon turned over, stroking Chanyeol’s cheek again.

Chanyeol was smiling as he slept, curled up facing Junmyeon. He was bare from the waist up and his silver knife would meet little resistance.

Junmyeon pulled the knife out from beneath his pillow, turning it in the moonlight.

The blade was as sharp as ever, perfectly clean with no hint that he had ever injured himself with it. He could remember the pain that had blossomed through him, the red blood that seeped into his clothes, stained his skin.

He could make it painless.

It would be quick and easy.

Junmyeon traced a finger over the edge of the blade, wincing as blood welled up to the cut, staining the silver bright blade.

He turned over, curling his fingers around the hilt.

Just one stroke, one push and it would all be over.

Chanyeol murmured in his sleep and Junmyeon sucked in his breath, shuffling closer.

He pulled back the blade, taking his aim, his breath coming out in quiet pants. Anticipation crawled under his skin like ants when Chanyeol turned, exposing his bare chest.

_Kill him and you can come home._

Junmyeon set his jaw, gritting his teeth.

A tear trickled down his face as he closed his fingers tighter around the hilt, gripping so hard that it hurt, his knuckles white.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, more to himself than anything.

He lunged forward but at the very last second, before the tip of the knife could pierce skin, he pulled back, the adrenaline crashing through his veins.

Junmyeon hugged the knife, a soft sob tearing through him before he could stop himself. He thrust the knife beneath his pillow, turning over to muffle his sobs into his hand, tears streaming down his face like pearls on a broken necklace.

He could not do it.

He was incapable of hurting Chanyeol, the man who had taken him in and cared for him. This was the same man who killed every day for a living, his hands stained with blood both red and green.

He was not supposed to fall but Junmyeon did, head over heels for a human man, a general who commanded armies that slaughtered Junmyeon’s own people.

It was all wrong.

The guilt tore him apart, eating him alive. It was a rabid creature, clawing at his insides, his heart and his body as he pressed his face into the pillow, murmuring prayers under his breath.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

-

It was rare that Chanyeol was home to do the laundry or the chores. Junmyeon usually did them, being home most of the day but Yifan had given Chanyeol the day off, promising that he could handle the armies.

It was probably a good thing too, to give both sides of the war some reprieve from the fighting.

Junmyeon had gone off to the market, insisting that he was bored being cooped up all the time and wanted some fresh air.

  
Chanyeol could hardly blame him.

For someone who had lived out on the wild Moors for most of his life, being unable to go out and run in the rain or the big wide fields had to be torture. He did catch Junmyeon staring longingly at the wall a fair few times and not for the first time, Chanyeol wondered if they could perhaps move there, after the war was over and done.

If the walls were lowered, perhaps they could build a house there and Junmyeon could have his fill of the Moors. Chanyeol was already more than a little tired of the palace.

They just had to stick it out, break down those walls, find Baekhyun, break the curse and all would be well.

Chanyeol hoped it would be well.

The times he enjoyed the most were the times spent with Junmyeon, just lazing in bed when he got home after dinner, sharing a bathtub. He smiled to himself, just remembering Junmyeon’s giggles when he had plopped a handful of soap bubbles on his nose.

They could have a future together, after the war.

He hummed to himself as he gathered up the clothes, dropping them into a basket. The sheets needed to be washed now and frankly, Chanyeol could not remember the last time he had been the one to strip the bed.

Junmyeon always did it.

Carrying the basket on his hip, he walked into the bedroom, pulling open the drapes to let the sunlight shine in.

He was still humming when he yanked the covers off the bed, dropping them into a pile in the basket. The pillowcases went next, one after the other and Chanyeol was very pleased that he could throw them into the basket from across the bed with remarkable accuracy.

Fingers curling under the mattress, Chanyeol heaved it up with a grunt, preparing to pull the sheets off when something shiny under Junmyeon’s side of the bed caught his eye.

Confused, he tugged off one corner of the bedsheet, pulling it up as he walked around to Junmyeon’s side.

Chanyeol sucked in a sharp breath when he propped the mattress up on his knee, leaning down to pick up the silver knife gingerly.

It was a lovely knife, carved with strange runes and symbols that he had seen only in books. Books on the Fair folk and their weapon making. The craftsmanship was outrageously beautiful, the slivered blade fitted into the hilt so precisely and the blade itself was razor sharp all the way up to the tip.

Why did Junmyeon own a faerie made knife?

He turned the blade over and over in his hands, a sinking feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Faerie made weapons were not seen in the market and one could only get them by making a trade with the Fair folk _or_ if they were part fae themselves.

The Fair folk had not traded with humans in the last century.

The betrayal caught him by surprise, an ugly viper striking him in the heart. His heavy felt as if it had been filled with lead, sinking to his toes.

Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut and set down the knife, careful to put it back into its original position.

He lowered the bed, tucking the bedsheets back around it so that it looked as if he never got to strip the bedding. It was just in time too, as the front door opened as he finished tucking the last corner in, betrayal bitter on his tongue.

“Love, I’m home!”

Chanyeol picked up the basket, planting a big smile on his face as he walked out, bending to kiss Junmyeon on the lips.

Junmyeon looked so radiant, his cheeks pink from the cold outside, his hair windblown and ruffled. He had never looked so beautiful in Chanyeol’s eyes, wrapped up in his big coat.

“I didn’t get to take off the sheets, love. Do you mind?”

Junmyeon’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Of course! Did you take the pillow cases?”

“Yes. Just do the sheets won’t you? I have too big a pile to manage.”

“Go ahead and do those first. I’ll take the sheets out.” The relief in Junmyeon’s voice made Chanyeol’s heart feel like it had been crushed in a vice.

He nodded, barely able to keep the fake smile on his face until he was out the door by the well.

His blood was pounding in his ears as he dunked the laundry into the wash bucket, scrubbing furiously as though he would be able to scrub the image of the silver knife from his mind.

Chanyeol could hear Junmyeon singing as he stripped off the sheets, bright and cheerful, so unlike the white faced man he had found in the kitchen that one night he burned dinner.

It hurt even more, knowing what he did now.

Late that night, as Junmyeon slumbered, Chanyeol laid awake, wondering if he should bring it up.

Did he care that Junmyeon was part fae? Or god forbid, all fae? What if he was a spy from the Fair folk, sent by the very faerie that Chanyeol sought to destroy?

Chanyeol wished he could say he cared so very much. That he could draw his sword now and cut off his head, wash the blood off his hands and go to bed.

But if he did, he would not be lying in bed, pondering, agonizing over whether Junmyeon’s love was true, if he was indeed a spy.

Chanyeol squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the torrent of questions rushing through his mind. He turned over, watching Junmyeon sleep, the moonlight shining onto his face.

In the light like that, he looked almost ethereal, the moonlight bouncing off his milk pale skin, illuminating his petal pink lips.

Those lips had told Chanyeol he loved him, through every kiss and every action.

They had spoken so plainly about a future after the war ended, if the walls were destroyed. Chanyeol had even been thinking about those plans that very morning, before his world fell apart. Junmyeon was sleeping so soundly now, curled up like a little shrimp with his fists balled up, his legs tucked up towards his chest.

He looked completely harmless, like a little rabbit, a sweet dove that could do no harm.

A dove.

Chanyeol looked at him again.

He remembered a dove on the faerie’s shoulder the day he came to the wedding.

Amidst all the smoke and curling vines, one of Chanyeol’s clearest memories were of the dove sitting atop the moonstone shard in the faerie’s staff, cooing prettily as if the chaos amused it.

His blood ran cold as he stared at Junmyeon, the rational part of his mind desperately trying to convince himself that it could not be possible.

But dragons who swam through the earth like it was water and warriors made out of ancient trees were possible so why should it not be possible that the love of his life was a dove? Possibly the very dove that the dark faerie kept as a pet?

Chanyeol turned over, facing away from Junmyeon.

Try as he might, he could not imagine any future without Junmyeon in it. He was not sure how he had managed to live without him before, when being together with him was like breathing.

If Junmyeon turned out to be a spy and his love had been false this entire time, then Chanyeol was willing to be the fool who fell in love with a faery and got his heart broken in the process. If he did not, then they could still have their happily ever after.

Chanyeol could let this go. He had to.

After all, he loved him too much to do otherwise.


	3. III

Yifan hated war.

He hated fighting, he hated blood that lingered, sticky on his hands, his skin and his armour. He hated the sounds the blades made on the battlefield, the roars of the fallen creatures.

He hated that he had let his ambition grow so big.

Those were the thoughts running through his head as he sliced through a row of creatures that he could not name, kicking them aside as he fought to get closer and closer to the wall.

He did not care if the Moors took his kingdom or his throne. He wanted none of that now.

Yifan could finally understand the grief that Yixing felt when he had shattered his heart, as he slashed down anything that got into his way.

If Yixing would just give him Baekhyun, dead or alive, he would fall at his knees and yield.

Baekhyun had to be alive, he just had to be.

A wyvern leapt out just as he reached the wall, screeching with fury. It was a beautiful creature, covered in copper scales that reflected the sun.

Yifan was briefly distracted, reminded of the way Baekhyun’s hair had danced just like that when he pranced around in the Moors.

His men were cornering it with their iron shields and swords, slashing whenever the creature tried to get too close.

Yifan joined their party, keeping his sword before him in case the wyvern lunged. It was already injured, bleeding from a wound in its front leg, its tail slashing through the air viciously.

The screams of the creature in agony tore at Yifan’s heart when his men threw an iron net over it, pinning it to the ground. The creature thrashed about, yanking and pulling but the chains of the net only tightened around it, securing it even further.

Yifan stepped forward, ready to cut its head off when the creature made a low whimpering sound and its intelligent brown eyes met his own.

A jolt shot through Yifan and he yanked his blade away mid swing, his men all staring at him in confusion.

“Baek-hyun?” he called and the wyvern’s eyes flashed with recognistion.

Horror poured through Yifan as he lowered his sword, his hand trembling when he sheathed the blade.

He had almost killed him.

“Baekhyun,” he said more strongly, the guards around him making gasps of shock and horror as he stepped up to the net, hand outstretched. “Baek, it’s _me._ ”

There was a fear bleeding inside him that Baekhyun would not recognize him without of his left eye, the left eye that the wyvern had clawed out himself.

Baekhyun made a pitiful whine and Yifan was suddenly all too aware of the iron burning into his skin.

He reached for the net, making to pull it off when the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto one knee, grasping at his sternum.

Baekhyun screeched, thrashing in his metal prison as glittering blue eyes filled his vision.

“How dare you.” Yixing’s voice was cloaked in fury when he yanked out the blade, the guards all around him collapsing onto the ground, white smoke pouring off him in waves.

Baekhyun was screaming, a horrible sound scraping at his ear drums as the world around him turned blurry, his entire focus on the pain blossoming from his sternum. Blood poured from the wound as he gripped at the wound, spitting crimson from his lips.

Yixing turned away from him and Yifan lurched.

“Please-,” he tried to say but Yixing was no longer looking at him.

He appeared to be conversing with Baekhyun, still convulsing in the net, making screechy noises.

Yifan could smell burning flesh when Yixing curled his hand around a bar in the net and yanked it off, the metal glowing red hot where it came into contact with his skin.

Yixing’s eyes were soft as he caressed Baekhyun’s cheek, turning to look at Yifan and Yifan was struck by an overwhelming realization.

He slid to the ground, Baekhyun’s name a prayer on his lips as his vision blurred, white smoke filling the world around him.

Yifan awoke in his bed in the palace, Chanyeol kneeling beside him, clutching his hand.

“I thought you were gone for good,” his friend said and there were tears in his eyes, glittering but not quite falling.

“Is Baekhyun a monster?” Yifan croaked, Chanyeol moving at once to bring him a glass of water. The water was cool against his heated throat, drawing a sigh from him as he laid his head back, Chanyeol stroking his forehead tenderly.

“Did you say something, my liege?” Chanyeol asked and Yifan shook his head at the formality.

“It is just us, Chanyeol. You don’t have to speak like that.”

He reached over and Chanyeol grasped him hand, the relief evident on his face.

“Do you think Baekhyun is a monster?” he asked hesitantly. It was a question that had been on his mind for a while now.

Were the fae monsters because they were different? Because they had powers where the humans did not?

Was Baekhyun, his beloved husband a monster because he was turned into one of them against his will?

Chanyeol’s face was unsure when he answered.

“I suppose he is. He is a wyvern after all. Complete with scales and claws.”

Yifan shook his head vehemently, grimacing when the motion hurt his body.

“I meant if you took away all that. If you looked past what he has become. Is he still a monster?”

Chanyeol’s lips parted in an ‘o’ shape as he considered it, rubbing circles on the back of Yifan’s hand.

“I- I don’t know, my friend. Has his heart not become one with his beast?”

Yifan collapsed back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

“Yixing only spelled him to alter his appearance, not his heart. I’m not sure- I think he still is the same Baekhyun that I fell in love with on the Moors.”

Chanyeol’s lips tightened at that, his gaze far away, as if he was thinking of something else.

Yifan squeezed his hand gently.

“Do you think-.” He stopped, inhaling. His mind could not stop rewinding the moment where Yixing had appeared, rage written all over his face when he stabbed him. The look in his eyes when he gazed at Baekhyun, trapped and helpless in the net.

It was the same way Yifan had looked at Baekhyun when he had discovered him on the outskirts of the Moor when they were younger, dancing on the green fields with flowers in his hair.

“Perhaps he is still human inside then. Still one of us,” Chanyeol said. His gaze was still far away.

Yifan wondered what he was thinking about.

“But the faerie that cast the spell onto him. He is monstrous, no?” Chanyeol asked and the guilt crashed into Yifan’s chest, heavy as a rock.

He thought of Yixing’s wings, white and speckled with blue, pinned up in a glass box and hidden deep deep beneath the castle .

“Not all fae are monstrous, Chanyeol. Yixing was not. He was cruel but he had a reason to be.”

The look in Chanyeol’s eyes was quizzical. Yifan had never told him the truth of why Yixing had come that day, spilling his magic into human lands that have been untouched by fae for centuries.

“Tell me then. Clearly this is something you have been carrying. Do not think I don’t see it in your eyes every time you fight with us. You cut the beasts down as if it pains you to.”

“It pains me because this was my fault.” Yifan released Chanyeol’s hand. “If I had been faithful, if I had not let greed and ambition get in my way, perhaps all would be different now. I betrayed him, Chanyeol. Yixing trusted me and I betrayed him.”

Chanyeol stayed silent, brooding.

“What will you have us do then? You seem to have given up fighting.” His voice was tight and stiff, a tone that Yifan had never heard him take with him before.

“The war, the throne. It all means nothing if I can’t have Baekhyun back. I _want_ him back, beast or man. Bring him to me, Chanyeol and all this will end.”

-

Chanyeol left the room with turmoil in his mind, gripping at the sword at his hip as he strode through the palace.

The sun was almost set and he would have to hurry home if he did not want Junmyeon to worry.

It was almost comical that the king would ask him such questions now, when he had his own problems to deal with. Yifan had said that not all fae were monstrous. Perhaps Junmyeon was not either.

Perhaps Chanyeol had only been conditioned think them as monsters because he did not know better.

Clearly, Junmyeon was fae and he was the sweetest, kindest person he had ever met. If that was not all a façade.

Chanyeol growled, running his hands through his hair in frustration as he walked through the town.

Junmyeon’s smile haunted him and he could almost hear his sweet singing in his ears as he thought of the day he had discovered his secret.

Did Junmyeon want him to know? Or perhaps he was planning to keep it a secret from him the entire time?

The frustration built and built even as he tread on the soft dirt that led him home, Junmyeon’s singing ringing out even from a distance as he walked.

“You’re home!”

The pain in his chest only grew when Junmyeon turned around from the stove to see him standing in the doorway, smiling his beautiful smile. Chanyeol could only smile back weakly, watching as he bounded over across the room to wrap his arms around him.

He was so small, so delicate like a flower and Chanyeol just wanted to scoop him up and hold him.

“I’ve missed you.” Gentle fingers carded through his hair and Chanyeol let himself be led over to the table, where bowls had already been set out. “Eat quickly now while it’s still warm.”

A bowl full of stew was pressed into his hands and Junmyeon settled into the chair opposite him, taking up a shirt with a hole in it to patch while he accompanied him.

“What have you been doing all day?” Chanyeol asked, watching him sew the patch with care, his fingers still unused to needle and thread. He had told him to leave the patching alone, that he could do it or give it to a seamstress but Junmyeon had insisted on learning.

“Laundry.” Junmyeon made a face, carefully putting another stitch through. “And most of the chores. I did manage to take a little walk though, near the river.”

The firelight bounced off his cheeks, soft and glowing from the heat. He looked so domestic, so beautiful that Chanyeol had a hard time reconciling this image with the murderous fae he saw on the battlefield every day.

Perhaps Yifan was right. Perhaps not all fae were monstrous.

He finished his food quickly, rinsing out the bowl despite Junmyeon’s protests and took aside Junmyeon’s sewing.

“Wash me,” he murmured when Junmyeon tried to take back his work, staring down into his eyes, “I’ve had a hard day.”

Junmyeon’s gaze softened and he nodded, rising onto his tip toes to press a kiss on his lips.

“I’ll run the bath,” he said, slipping out of Chanyeol’s embrace.

Later, when they were both naked and panting, rutting furiously against each other, Chanyeol would forget all of his thoughts, more focused on pulling those long drawn out moans that he so loved to hear from Junmyeon, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin ringing in his ears.

The thoughts would only return when they were both sticky and sated and desperately in need of another bath but Junmyeon would be fast asleep, curled up on his side.

He was beautiful all the time, even with dried release on his stomach and sides, his hair matted with sweat and sticking to his hair.

Chanyeol slid out of bed quietly, ducking under to slide his hands under the mattress.

It was heavy and it hurt, the weight of the mattress crushing his hand but he found it eventually, pulling it out by its hilt.

The silver glinted in the moonlight, a deadly beauty. Chanyeol looked from the knife to his sleeping lover and sighed.

He tucked the blade away in the drawers beside his bed before crawling under the covers, drawing a sleeping Junmyeon up to his chest and falling sound asleep.

-

_You hurt Yifan._ Baekhyun growled, lashing his tail and Yixing cringed, still stroking his hands along Baekhyun’s burns.

There was nothing very much he could do but they would heal on their own, just like the rest of them.

“I had to. He was going to kill you,” he said softly, running his fingers along Baekhyun’s back. Baekhyun shuddered, twisting around with a horrible scraping sound that made him wince.

_He would not have, you fool! He loves me. He recognizes me._

The agony in Baekhyun’s voice hurt him and Yixing had to turn away, grasping for his staff. He was tired, his magic all spent on trying to help Baekhyun.

But he had more to do, a wrong to right.

“Stay here. You will be safe. Just rest,” he said before rising to his feet, Baekhyun’s head following his motions.

_Where are you going?_

“To be alone.”

Yixing climbed to the very top of the cliffs, braving the winds and the rapidly darkening skies. He was not lying when he told Baekhyun he wanted to be alone but he had to try something.

Dropping onto his knees, he stared out across the Moors, over the wall and the human lands.

“I rescind my curse,” he whispered.

His magic sparked, a glow in his tired body.

“I rescind my curse.”

The glow grew brighter, stronger and hope surged into his chest.

“I rescind my curse!”

It was almost bright enough to blind him and Yixing had to shield his eyes, his robes swirling as the wind rushed around him, whipping his hair back and forth.

The weight had finally lifted off his shoulders and he could breathe easily again. Yixing smiled and then coughed, covering his mouth. A speckling of blood dusted his palm when he pulled it away but the deed was done.

Baekhyun was human again.

Satisfied, he made his way down from the cliffs, returning back to the den in which he had left Baekhyun in.

“What did you do?”

He was greeted with a shell shocked Baekhyun, curled up on the cave floor naked, staring at himself in awe.

“I rescind my curse,” he murmured, swaying on his feet.

Baekhyun yelped when he collapsed, right into the nest that he had built, crawling beneath the thin sheets. He coughed again and cursed.

There was something warm and wet dripping from his nose when he lifted his head, Baekhyun releasing a cry of alarm.

“Oh gods.”

A warm body staggered into the nest beside him and Yixing hummed contently when Baekhyun drew him into his lap, his shaking fingers carding through his hair.

“Why did you do that?”

His voice was quiet as he wiped the blood from Yixing’s face, settling him back against the pillows. Yixing groaned when he came closer. He was shivering and Baekhyun was warm.

“Because you didn’t deserve it,” he murmured, raising a trembling hand to rest upon Baekhyun’s thigh. “Because I- love you, stupid little beast.”

Baekhyun laughed, almost incredulously.

“You don’t. You love that dove, Junmyeon,” he said, stroking Yixing’s hair. It felt nice. With Junmyeon gone, there was no one who would stroke his hair anymore and Yixing liked it very much.

“He is my other half,” Yixing said weakly, “the other part of my soul. I love him dearly but we could never- be anything like you and Yifan. I gave that part of me away too soon. And now, I will give it again.”

Baekhyun sniffled and Yixing looked up when a drop of something wet fell onto his face.

“I can’t love you back. I- I have already promised forever to Yifan.”

Yixing rolled his eyes, allowing them to flutter close.

“I can never beat him, can I?” he murmured, cuddling up to Baekhyun, practically purring as Baekhyun ran his fingers through his hair, a soft melody trilling from his lips, singing him into dreamland.

In the morning, when the sunlight shone upon Baekhyun, his copper scales gleaming, Yixing did his best not to show how terrified he felt.

His powers had never failed him before, never did anything by halves.

-

The knife was cold in his coat pocket as he strode into the palace, tugging his coat tighter about him.

Yifan was still resting in his bed when he entered, sitting up with a tactical map spread over his blankets.

“I’ve brought you something,” Chanyeol said, kneeling beside the bed.

Yifan turned quizzical eyes onto him and Chanyeol swallowed, reaching inside his coat to withdraw Junmyeon’s silver blade, setting it down onto the bed.

“What’s this?” Yifan picked it up and gasped, his eyes widening. He brought it up to his remaining eye, his hands trembling as he did so. “Where did you get this?”

“This is Faerie made, isn’t it?” Chanyeol asked and Yifan’s nod only served to crush his heart a little more.

“Forgive me, my liege. I fear I may have been harbouring a faery under my roof.”

“A faery?” Yifan’s expression changed. “How did you come by one? The Fair folk almost never leave the Moors.”

“I found him by the Moors, my liege. He was outside the wall, the first day of the war, bleeding heavily so I took him home to care for him.”

“What’s his name?” He could almost see the cogs in Yifan’s mind turning as he spoke, calculative.

“Junmyeon. He did not give a family name.”

Whatever he had been expecting, Chanyeol was not expecting for his king to turn pale, fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife.

“Myeon. Yixing had a bird, a little dove that hasn’t been seen since the wedding. He called him Myeonnie.”

Chanyeol’s heart felt as if it had been squeezed in a vice. It was difficult for him to speak his next words, because he so desperately wished for them to not be true.

“Could they be the same person?”

“It must be. Why else would you find him at such a convenient timing?”

Chanyeol held his tongue, his heart shattering into a million pieces. He had his doubts but the evidence was compelling. A pet bird that seemed to follow Yixing everywhere disappearing? And Junmyeon appearing to him on the day that he did?

It was all too much of a coincidence to be accidental.

His despair must have shown in his face for Yifan patted his cheek, handing the knife back to him.

“You are not the first person to fall for a faerie’s allure,” he said softly, “speak to him, Chanyeol, if you care for him as much as I can see on your face.”

“He’s working for the enemy. There’s nothing to say,” Chanyeol said stiffly, tucking the knife back into his coat.

He strode off before Yifan could argue, burying his shaking hands into his coat pockets.

Everything around him was blurry, guards hurrying by, the golden glow of the palace reduced to a white blur as he fumbled to get out. It was hard to breathe with all the noise and clatter, the pain in his thumping chest a constant reminder of Junmyeon’s betrayal.

He had half a mind to pull out the blade and put it through his own chest, if that would stop the pain.

Chanyeol stumbled around a servant girl, muttering his apologies. He nearly collided into a marble pillar in his haste to get out, stopping just shy of planting his face into the wall.

The sky seemed to reflect his tumultuous emotions as a low growl of thunder rumbled in the distance, a drizzle of rain trickling down from the heavens.

Chanyeol hugged his coat closer as he approached his home, a cold wind blowing past to ruffle his hair.

His boots squished in the damn mud as he walked up the path, the warm light glowing from the windows growing cold to his eyes when he thought of what was hiding inside his home.

There was no sign of Junmyeon when he opened the door, only a stew bubbling away on the stove, still warm.

He could hear him in the bedroom though, drawers slamming as he rummaged through the room and the thought only chilled his heart even further.

Chanyeol withdrew the blade from his pocket, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Looking for this?” His tone was chillier than the wind outside as he stepped into the bedroom.

Junmyeon spun around, his face as white as a sheet.

The look of horror on his face only twisted the metaphorical knife in Chanyeol’s heart further.

“Chanyeol- I- I can explain,” he stuttered, taking a step backwards when Chanyeol walked towards him.

Chanyeol wanted to let him explain. He wished so desperately that there was a way to explain why Junmyeon had possession of a faery made knife, why his _name_ was so similar to the dark fae’s pet dove. Why said dove had not been seen since the king’s wedding.

He wanted all that and more, but there was nothing left to explain, not with the coincidental timings, the evidence all laid out for him to see.

There was nothing his bleeding heart could use to somehow explain away Junmyeon’s connection to the Fair folk.

He could see even more connections now, like how Junmyeon knew what herbs would help him when he had been poisoned by the earth dragons, how he said he was not a virgin. He must have laid with the faery.

“What is there left to explain, Junmyeon? Tell me!”

Chanyeol spat in disgust, hating that his heart ached at the crushed look on Junmyeon’s face. Even his discovery could not dull the love he had for this man, no matter how much he wished it would.

“Chanyeol- wait please.” Junmyeon’s fingers curled around his wrist and Chanyeol yanked back, snarling.

“Don’t touch me.”

Junmyeon’s lips parted, a look of absolute devastation crossing his face.

“You lied to me,” Chanyeol rambled on, all the suppressed fury and sorrow burrowing to the surface, overflowing. “You used me. All this time. I- I thought our love was genuine. I considered a future with you, Junmyeon. That we would leave this place when the war blows over and build a home on the Moors where you could feel the rain on your face and taste the wind again.”

He laughed, bitter and painful as he dropped the silver blade between them, Junmyeon trembling where he stood.

“But I guess this was all a game to you, wasn’t it? Your master sent you here, to do what? Seduce me? Kill me? You’ve succeeded in one aspect at least.”

There were tears streaming down his face, mirroring the ones on Junmyeon’s cheeks, silver trails gleaming in the moonlight.

“Chanyeol- no.” Junmyeon sucked in a breath, taking a tiny step forward. “My love is true, Chanyeol. I did lie to you, a- about who I am, what I am.”

He reached for him but all Chanyeol could do was back away, shaking his head.

“I love you, Chanyeol. I couldn’t kill you, not even if I tried.”

“I want you to leave,” Chanyeol said, turning his head away so that he would not see the devastation spreading over Junmyeon’s face. “I want you to go home and I never want to see you again.”

A part of him screamed at the very thought of Junmyeon leaving, the irrational part that wanted to reach out and cling to him and hold on to his resolve of loving Junmyeon despite everything.

But Junmyeon was a spy and Chanyeol would never be able to kill him even if he was asked to.

“Chanyeol- please let me-.”

“Go!”

Chanyeol barked, snarling and Junmyeon backed away, tears streaking down his face. His hands were pressed to his mouth as he bolted, stepping hard on the silver blade when he dashed for the door.

His blood bled red, all over the floor as he ran out into the pouring rain.

Chanyeol followed him to the door, reaching for his sword when Junmyeon stopped in the middle of the path, turning back to look at him, as if hoping he would change his mind.

“Go before I kill you!” he snarled, waving his sword and he could almost hear his heart crunching beneath Junmyeon’s feet when he lurched back, a look of terror written all over his face.

He stumbled away, his injured feet leaving blood trails in the mud as he ran, the rain soaking through his thin tunic.

Chanyeol shuddered, dropping his sword onto the wet ground and collapsed, finally allowing the tears to flow freely, weeping for the love that never should have bloomed.

All around the house, there were reminders of Junmyeon, when he had finally gained enough strength to rise.

The towels draped over the couch in preparation for their evening bath together, the stew bubbling over on the stove, spilling brown liquid onto the floors.

Junmyeon must have been bored one day and rearranged his dishware and pots for Chanyeol did not remember where the bowls were located and could not find them in their usual place.

With a pained cry, Chanyeol abandoned the search, dousing the fire.

He flung the entire pot onto the floor, cursing when the hot stew spilt onto him, burning his foot. But the pain was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside, as if his heart had been carved out of his chest.

Chanyeol kicked the pot, yanking open another cupboard to see the dishes stacked neatly inside. There were even some new ones that he had never seen before, ones that Junmyeon must have bought from his little trips to the market.

He pulled them out, biting down on his bottom lip so hard that he tasted blood.

There were little flowers painted on the earthenware, sweet little marigold and sweet peas and they were so _Junmyeon_ that Chanyeol could not stop the sob from tearing out of his throat.

The dishware shattered, across the room with a crashing sound.

He left them there, the poor flowers broken into a million pieces.

-

Junmyeon did not know how long he had run in the rain, the tears mingling with it.

His foot stung where he had cut it on his own dagger as he dragged it behind him, staggering towards the Moors.

Lightning flashed across the sky and a blast of thunder cracked in his ears.

Junmyeon gasped in fright, his breaths ragged as he approached the bridge.

His feet slipped over the wet wood as he ran, stumbling and falling hard, the wind knocked out of him.

The wood splintered beneath his fingertips, piercing his flesh but he barely felt the pain over the aching in his heart.

Chanyeol’s face was the only thing he could see in his mind as he dragged himself to his feet, sobs tearing out of his throat before he could stop them. He ran towards the walls, stumbling and falling once more, this time so hard that he did not want to get up again.

There was a low rumble and he turned over, terror a ball choking his throat when he saw Balthazar standing over him, his glorious staff held in one hand.

He whimpered when the tree warrior picked him up, curling into a small ball on his wooden hand as Balthazar took him home.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, Yixing materializing to take him into his arms, drape a heavy warm cloak over him. He slipped in and out of consciousness as he was brought to Yixing’s new den and settled amidst the nest.

“What happened to him?”

The voice made Junmyeon stir but the nest was warm and Yixing was sliding into bed next to him, soft and familiar, murmuring words that he could not hear as he stroked fingers through Junmyeon’s hair.

“I’m sorry, my dove.” A gentle kiss was pressed against his lips and then his forehead and Junmyeon felt his eyes flutter shut, already drifting away. “I’m so sorry.”

Junmyeon awoke to Yixing curled protectively around him, one arm draped around his waist.

He rubbed his eyes groggily, wondering why his waist hurt so.

The memories of all that had happened in the previous night crashed into him and he could not help his little wail of despair, burying his face into his hands.

_Chanyeol._

His heart still ached from the hole Chanyeol had torn into it, a raw throbbing pain that could not be sated.

“My dove.” Yixing was stirring, sitting up and Junmyeon wanted to scream.

He wanted to blame someone, _anyone_.

“Why did you ask this of me?” he whispered, hugging his knees to his chest. “Why did you make me go?”

Yixing’s face crumpled and he reached over, wrapping his arms around Junmyeon. Junmyeon let him, only because he did not have the strength to move.

“I’m sorry, Junmyeonnie,” Yixing murmured into his hair, “I’m sorry. I was- I was wrong. I didn’t know.”

He traced Junmyeon’s cheek with his thumb, pulling him close so that he could tuck his face into the crook of his neck, the cold wet of tears spilling onto his robes.

“Stop this,” Junmyeon whispered, fingers curling into the collar of Yixing’s robes, “make it stop please!”

Yixing held him as he cried like his heart was breaking all over again and Junmyeon hoped it would be enough for him to call off the war, to stop this hellscape.

But alas, his prayers were not to be answered as a group of pixies fluttered into the den, accompanied by a wyvern so large that it could barely fit through the doorway. The pixies chattered, almost frightened as they approached the nest.

“What is it?”

Yixing asked, hand still resting upon Junmyeon’s shoulder. His robes splayed out of Junmyeon’s thigh as he shifted, turning to face their audience.

“You must come quickly. There are humans. We think it’s the full army,” one of the pixies blurted out and Yixing’s gaze flicked to the wyvern.

Junmyeon’s heart cracked. If it were the full army, Chanyeol would be there, leading the troops. He was the general after all, a fact that he had conveniently forgotten in his blind love.

“Gather our troops. Where is Balthazar? I need him.”

Yixing turned to him and kissed him, gently on his forehead.

“You can stay here, love. Rest. I will handle this.”

“No,” Junmyeon struggled, wincing when his injured foot made contact with the ground. He wobbled and Yixing caught him, dark eyes full of worry. “I want to go. I want to be with you.”

A part of him wanted to see Chanyeol again, even if it were on the battlefield and they were on two different sides. He ached to see him again.

There was no way it could end happily, but perhaps his heart would be sated, if he got one last glimpse.

Yixing was staring at him, thumbing over his cheek as if he wanted to protest but the only thing he did was wave his hand, wisps of white smoke fluttering over Junmyeon’s body to form a steel armour, complete with a long spear.

“Please be careful, my dove,” he whispered when he had sent the others away, pulling Junmyeon close.

Junmyeon nodded, but his mind of elsewhere.

The battlefield was silent when they emerged from behind the thorns. Junmyeon almost wanted to turn back when he saw Chanyeol, his face hidden behind an iron helmet, sitting atop a war horse. He was still breathtakingly handsome, even though his eyes were steely when they fixed upon him.

Yixing’s hand on his shoulder squeezed and he looked up to see his friend’s brow creased with worry for him.

He shook his head, offering him a smile for reassurance.

A loud gong sounded and Junmyeon was completely taken aback by the surge of human soldiers, lunging forward as their troops screamed, an earth dragon leaping straight out of the ground to dismantle the first lines of the human troops.

All hell broke loose and all Junmyeon could focus on for the next moments were slashing and cutting, flinging his spear as quickly as he could, new weapons reforming in his hands the moment his previous had met its target.

A human soldier rushed him, yelling at the top of his lungs and Junmyeon’s heart seized. He leapt, gasping when his body shifted at once into one of a dove.

  
He plunged downwards and he was changing once more, into a wolf. Snapping at the soldiers, the burn of their iron armour only secondary to the adrenaline running through his veins, he searched the crowd for Chanyeol.

With a loud scream, he threw back his head, Yixing’s magic cloaking around him to turn him into a massive white dragon.

He snatched up the closest soldier, tossing them aside.

A fire ball built up in the back of his throat and he belched it out, setting the nearest group of humans aflame.

Another group of them rushed him, yelling like fools and he reared, swiping his tail to knock a row of them over like a stack of dominos. _Humans are puny_ , he thought, slashing a gouge through the earth and lunging back as one of Balthazar’s dragons sprang from the gap, swallowing a mouthful of soldiers in one gulp before disappearing back beneath.

“Cut it down!” someone screamed and Junmyeon flared out his wings, his body tingling as Yixing worked his magic once more. He was a bird again, this time a hawk with hooked talons as he swooped down, digging those razor sharp claws into vulnerable flesh.

The shrieks of the humans rang all around him and a blow to his wing sent him tumbling towards the ground, his body shifting and changing until he was a wolf again, biting and snarling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chanyeol, helmet thrown off, hair in disarray, sword raised high in the air.

He also saw the faerie rushing towards his back, silver spear glinting.

Terror rushed through him like a river and Without thinking , Junmyeon launched himself into the air, putting himself between Chanyeol’s back and the fast approaching spear.

The spear stabbed straight through him before the faerie could pull back, a dull yelp dragging out of his throat.

It hurt.

More than he imagined it would.

Blood poured from the wound endlessly and Junmyeon could not stop the animalistic howl that tore out of him.

Chanyeol whirled around, sword raised, a crazed look in his eyes but Junmyeon was already changing, slumping onto the ground in human form.

He saw his eyes widen, the General dropping to his knees to cradle him.

Chanyeol was warm and safe and Junmyeon smiled weakly, his lips curling up at the corners when Chanyeol dropped his sword.

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol gasped, one arm slung around Junmyeon’s back. His other hand moved to grasp at the spear speared in Junmyeon’s chest.

“Chan- yeol.”

It was more effort that Junmyeon thought, just to form a single word. His mind was turning sluggish and he vaguely wondered if he had imagined the horror in Chanyeol’s eyes.

He coughed, gasping when pain jolted through him, reaching to grip at the spear shaft, curling around Chanyeol’s big hand.

“No, _no_! Why the hell were you- what were you thinking?” Chanyeol cried and Junmyeon whimpered when he jostled him.

“Where’s the faerie? We have to get you-. Junmyeon, don’t you dare.”

Junmyeon blinked open the eyes he did not know he had fluttered close with effort.

“I’m- sorry,” he choked, his tongue too thick in his mouth, “about- everything.”

Chanyeol was shaking his head, gathering him close, spikes of pain shooting through Junmyeon.

“Shut up,” he snapped roughly, “stay awake, Junmyeon. Don’t you dare-.”

Junmyeon opened his mouth but the world seemed to be moving in slow motion, Chanyeol’s lips moving too slowly, the edges of his vision blurry.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips curving weakly when he felt something wet drip onto his face.

“Don’t you dare, Junmyeon. I love you too, stay awake, please stay awake.”

The world came back into focus as the words left Chanyeol’s lips, his screams for help ringing in Junmyeon’s ears.

Junmyeon’s eyes fluttered.

Everything around him was so soft and the pain in his chest no longer hurt.

“Junmyeon?” Chanyeol was looking back down at him. He was crying, tears trickling down his face like opals.

Why was he crying?

Junmyeon was so comfortable.

He raised his trembling hand, thumbing at the tears that rolled down Chanyeol’s face with a smile.

“Don’t- cry,” he murmured.

Chanyeol leaned down, resting their foreheads together. His lips pressed against Junmyeon’s and Junmyeon could only focus on how nice it felt, even with wetness dripping on his face.

“Stay awake, Junmyeon. Stay awake, please.” Chanyeol’s words blurred on his ears, his hand suddenly so heavy that he could not hold it up any longer.

“M’ tired,” he murmured.

Chanyeol hefted him in his arms, gathering him against his chest and Junmyeon could hear his heart thumping away strongly in his ear.

“Don’t fall asleep, Junmyeon. Junmyeon, _Junmyeon_!”

Junmyeon welcomed the darkness with a smile, knowing that Chanyeol would live, hopefully happier than he had made him.

-

Chanyeol choked on a scream when Junmyeon’s hand fell away from his, his body dead weight in his arms when he closed his eyes.

_No_.

An inhuman scream rang in his ears but all he could see was Junmyeon’s peaceful smile as his eyes fluttered close. His hands were covered in garish red, the blood still dripping from Junmyeon’s chest.

“Junmyeon,” he whispered, shaking the faerie in his arms, even as the crushing realisation settled on his shoulders. “Junmyeon, wake up. Junmyeon!”

He was shouting, screaming even when his men yelled for him to run, to leave Junmyeon in the middle of the field.

“ _You_.”

The single word was full of hatred and anguish.

Chanyeol jolted when he was shoved aside, the dark faerie Yifan had called Yixing falling to his knees at Junmyeon’s side.

“Junmyeon.”

Yixing picked up Junmyeon’s body, cradling it close to him. He was shaking as he brushed the stray locks of Junmyeon’s hair from his face, tears falling onto Junmyeon’s skin.

“Junmyeon, please,” Yixing shuddered, an inhuman scream tearing from his throat as he broke, burying his face into Junmyeon’s neck.

He was so close that Chanyeol could just pick up his sword and put it through his chest.

This faerie had brought this upon them, with his curse and his pride. The war happened because of him and now Junmyeon was dead.

But as he wept over Junmyeon’s body, Chanyeol could not bring himself to hurt him.

Junmyeon had cared for him, this faerie.

Which was the reason why when a guard rushed the faerie, sword raised, Chanyeol lunged forward, his blade colliding with the other’s.

Yixing whirled around, rising to his feet, Junmyeon’s body cradled in his arms.

“You will pay for this,” he murmured, so low that Chanyeol almost could not hear him, “you will all _pay_.”

Wind rushed past Chanyeol’s ears, so quickly that his ears popped. The faerie vanished just as the storm clouds rolled in, drenching the fields in an outpouring of rain so sudden that there was no time to run.

Lightning cracked across the skies and the soldiers ran when thunder rumbled, loud in their ears.

Chanyeol could not move from where he knelt on the sodden grass, his hands still covered in blood.

Junmyeon’s blood.

Junmyeon was gone.

Junmyeon was really gone.

The realisation struck him as lightning flashed across the skies once more. One of his soldiers grabbed him, dragging him to his feet.

Chanyeol could only follow numbly, his tears mingling with the rain as he was bodily dragged back to the camps and Yifan was kneeling before him, calling his name.

“Chanyeol?”

He blinked, a shudder wracking his body.

“Junmyeon is dead.”

When he returned home that night, the broken pieces of Junmyeon’s dishware on the floor haunted him, pieces that he had yet to clean up.

There was still stew crusted to the tops of the cupboards and all over the floor.

Chanyeol knelt, his hands trembling as he picked up the broken pieces of earthenware, the blue and yellow flowers turning into little coloured spots in his blurry vision.

“Junmyeon,” he whispered, tears dripping down his face.

The silver knife was still on the floor in the bedroom, covered in blood.

It almost felt like a bad dream, one that he would wake up from to see Junmyeon lying beside him, holding him close.

But when the sunlight came streaming in the next morning and Chanyeol awoke with a horrible pain all over his body, he knew that it had not been a dream.

The sky was a beautiful cerulean, with no signs of the storm grey clouds it had been covered with the day before. The sun was shining and Chanyeol was almost positive he could hear birds singing, chirping as if he had not just lost the light of his life, the day before.

He dragged himself out of bed, took one glance at the iron sword and shield that lay haphazardly on the floor and made up his mind.

-

Yixing wept for a night and day, hidden away in his nest alone. He barred everyone from entering, even Baekhyun, cradling the body of his beloved friend.

When his tears were dry, Yixing was only an empty husk full of fury and desperate for vengeance. He rose from his den, taking Junmyeon’s body with him.

He buried him beside the streams that he so loved to drink and swim in. When his body melted into the ground, his essence bringing white flowers, cotton flowers in his name.

The water in the stream froze his fingers when Yixing dipped his hands into it. He poured the first handful over the fluffy flowers, watering them gently and the second handful he drank, the sweet water sliding down his throat, parched from crying.

“Sleep well, my dove,” he whispered, “you will be dearly missed.”

The flowers blossomed, spreading out from their little patch to overtake other plants along the stream, their soft fluffy heads swaying in the wind.

Yixing left them there, his robes billowing around him as he walked, striding with purposeful steps to the pools, the very pools that had started all of this.

Kneeling, he dipped a hand into the water, allowing his anguish and fury to mingle, to drip from his fingers like poison into the crystal clear waters. The waters turned murky and the sprites hidden in the nearby trees shrieked, fleeing deeper into the branches.

“Rise,” Yixing murmured, “rise and answer me.”

The willow trees shook, a wind ruffling their branches and Yixing smiled, the moonstone shard on his staff glowing as a grotesque claw lurched out of the water, digging gouges into the dirt as the creature dragged itself out.

Its skin was the colour of the sky at midnight, speckled with stars, its forearms as long as Yixing was tall.

The trees shook once more, the earth shuddering, more cracks opening in the ground as the creature crawled out, shrieking a banshee cry at the sight of Yixing. It rose to its full height, taller than the tallest trees, body covered in sky covered armour, constellations gleaming from its belly to its shoulders.

The creature made Balthazar looked handsome when it opened its maw, shrieking once more. Yixing smiled.

It reeked of dark, ancient magic, bubbling beneath the surface of the Moors and when he reached out to touch the star speckled skin, it was cold beneath his fingertips, like ice and bones.

A shapeshifter. The oldest of its kind.

Yixing waved his hands, his staff emitting clouds of smoke and the creature roared, its shape twisting and forming into a skeletal horse, almost too big for Yixing to climb upon.

His magic folded around him and he perched himself atop the horse’s back, digging fingers into bone.

Every step the horse took shook the earth, leaves raining down from the trees as they strode out of the Moors, stepping right over the wall of thorns.

The humans screamed when they saw it, Yixing’s creature radiating darkness and fear.

Yixing preened a little but his fury bubbled to a boil.

“Bring me Park Chanyeol!” His voice carried across the battlefield, where Fae and human alike had frozen where they stood, eyes unable to pull away from the monstrosity that Yixing had summoned.

There was no answer, only the wind whistling across the land.

“Chanyeol has gone.”

A man limped forward, clutching a cane. He wore the armor of a general, the king’s crest emblazoned across his chest. His golden hair gleamed in the light and Yixing snarled.

He knew that voice.

He would know that voice anywhere.

“His cottage was emptied and he left behind his sword and shield. No one has seen him since.”

Yifan did not look much different from the last time he had seen him, only a little more haggard, his left eye milky and pale, the scars still prominent on his cheek and brow.

Yixing growled, the beast beneath him stiffening, as if sensing his mood.

“Then you will all die for his cowardice,” he snarled.

The horse reared, striking the ground so hard that a split grew from its skeletal hoof. The ground shuddered so hard that both man and Fae were thrown sideways.

Somehow, as dirt was thrown up in the air, his soldiers running for safety, Yifan remained standing, leaning on his cane.

His face was full of pain as he gazed upon Yixing’s face.

“Yixing,” he said, with none of the arrogance and pride that Yixing had expected.

“Don’t beg me for mercy.” Yixing’s eyes gleamed, “it is beneath you.”

Yifan started, eyes fixed on Yixing.

It unsettled him, to see Yifan like that, eyes dulled by pain and stress.

“I propose a trade. If you spare my men and give me back Baekhyun, I will return your wings.”

Yixing froze.

He had not thought about his wings since they were taken. The scars on his back were always there and he ached for them still, but they had been forced to the back of his mind.

“Your Baekhyun is no longer human,” he answered stiffly, “how will you keep him?”

He longed for his wings, for the wind in his hair, his face, but letting Baekhyun go would rip out what remained of his heart.

Junmyeon was dead and the only one he had left was Baekhyun, even if he would never love him back. He at least understood Yixing’s pain, even if he still loved his husband.

“I love him, Yixing. Whether beast or man. Give him back to me and you can have your wings back. You have already lost your friend. How much more can you bear?”

Yixing’s fingers squeezed into a fist, his teeth digging into his lower lip so hard.

He was incomplete without his wings.

But he did not know if he could ever feel complete again.

Was losing Baekhyun worth having his wings back?

Slowly, he extended his hand. The wall of thorns rolled down, revealing Baekhyun as a wyvern, pacing behind the thorns.

The sun gleamed on his copper scales and a ball of tears stuck in Yixing’s throat when Baekhyun turned to see Yifan standing before him.

A loud flapping sound filled the air and Yixing rose from his perch, tears glimmering in his eyes when he saw his wings, as big and white as he remembered, soaring towards him.

They slammed into his back, magic surging through him, so strong that he stumbled, nearly falling off his horse.

The wind caught in his feathers and he shot up into the air, pure joy fizzing through his bloodstream. It lasted only a moment, when he realised that he no longer had Junmyeon to share his joy.

But a deal was a deal.

“I rescind my curse!” he shouted to the winds, his staff glowing so brightly that it could no longer contain the power, shattering into a million pieces.

Baekhyun shrieked in pain and Yixing had to turn away, his heart aching.

Yifan held him throughout the change, single eye glowing with delight when he no longer held a wyvern in his arms but a human boy.

“Baekhyun.”

Yixing kept his head turned away as he called back his troops.

But the star speckled monster would not budge, its deep blue eyes fixed upon Baekhyun.

With a shudder, it shifted back, into its own form, a creature so tall its head brushed the clouds. It extended a single claw and before Yixing could stop it, pressed the sharp tip into the meat of Baekhyun’s shoulder.

Baekhyun’s scream ripped his heart to shreds when he collapsed, black veins spreading from the mark left in his flesh.

“No!”

Yixing did not know what he had done until he was kneeling by Baekhyun’s side, cradling him in his arms, Yifan on his other side.

His hands glowed as he tried desperately to heal the damage, to purge the poison from Baekhyun’s veins.

The human was already trembling in his arms, blood flecked foam gathering at the corners of his lips.

“What have you done?” Yixing gasped when his magic failed to make even a dent in the poison. He looked up at the creature, soulless eyes boring into him.

_The pools curse those who take for greed._

The voice echoed in his head, the creature’s tone completely remorseless.

It was Yixing’s own voice.

The very same words he had said to Yifan when he had led him to the pools.

His blood chilled.

“What?” Yifan demanded, taking Baekhyun from him, his husband whimpering like a small child.

The black veins had travelled up to his neck now, ugly and stark against Baekhyun’s white skin. He was hurting, in terrible agony as he writhed in Yifan’s arms.

“We must put him out of his misery,” Yixing said softly, a silver blade already materializing in his palm.

“No!” Yifan snarled and there were guards around them, sword points pointing at Yixing’s throat. “You won’t touch him.”

“He’ll die anyway,” Yixing said, staring at the black veins crawling up Baekhyun’s skin. He brushed his hand against his shoulder and Baekhyun was lucid enough to turn towards him, his eyes glazed with pain. “This was my fault.”

“What did you _do_?”

“The monster-.”

They both turned to the star speckled beast who was dissolving back into the earth, back to where it came from.

“This was my doing.”

His hands shook when he touched Baekhyun again, the silly, stupid man’s lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

“I forg-.”

“Save your breath, love,” Yifan urged.

Yixing was still staring at Baekhyun, as the horrifying veins spread higher up, across his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

He seemed to be saying that a lot lately, as loss carved out a much larger hole in his heart.

Baekhyun shook his head, gasping, his fingers curling feebly around Yixing’s wrist.

“I forgive-.”

His lashes fluttered, his lips curving weakly and he went still in Yifan’s arms.

“Baekhyun?”

It was as if someone had stolen all the air from his lungs, the world a black hole as it sucked all meaning from his life.

Yixing could only stare, too numb to even cry as Yifan shook his lover, calling his name repeatedly until his voice cracked and the realisation slammed into him.

He watched Yifan crumple with a sickening fascination that made his stomach turn, bile rising to his throat.

Baekhyun was gone too, another too bright soul lost in their battle of pride and jealousy.

Yixing could not bear staying a moment longer.

He spun around, brushing aside the swords pointed at him and leapt, his wings carrying him high into the sky, wind whipping through his hair.

He was unbalanced, torn and shaking as the guilt crashed down onto him, like he crashed through the branches of the nearest tree, almost careening into a tree trunk.

His wings were raw and bloody by the time he arrived at the banks of the stream, too peaceful with the little fluff cotton flowers bobbing in the wind.

Yixing collapsed before the flowers and let the tears run down, the guilt a tornado in his belly, ripping up his insides.

He was too numb to cry much, the disbelief still fresh.

-

Yifan was not sure he could cry anymore.

He had shed so many tears over Baekhyun’s passing and Chanyeol was no longer there to hold his hand and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

They had wanted to cremate him, as was the way of the people but Yifan adamantly refused.

Baekhyun had loved the Moors, had lived there all his life until he met Yifan. If he had left him alone, perhaps the beautiful, carefree boy would still be alive.

But humans were greedy and unfaithful and Yifan was only human.

So he went on his own, bearing Baekhyun’s body wrapped in a white sheet, to bury him on the Moors he had loved so much.

Yifan came upon a stream, crystal clear and almost musical with the way the water ran over the stones. The banks were covered in soft, white fluffy cotton flowers, hundreds of them spread out in every direction.

He laid Baekhyun down amongst the flowers, pulling the sheet away to brush his hand over the top of his head.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he whispered.

There was a presence nearby, hovering behind the trees but Yifan did not have to look back to know who it was when Baekhyun’s body melted into the earth, a lovely cluster of pink and white carnations springing up into existence.

-

Loss was a strange thing.

It could reshape lives, reshape people and the fae were no exception.

Yixing was never seen again on the Moors, though the flowers that he planted grew and thrived, the cotton white flowers spreading until they covered every inch of the clearing.

From his little cottage on the outskirts of the Moors, Chanyeol ran in the rain, drank waters from the streams and watched the pixies dance amongst the flowers, like he had once promised Junmyeon he would. He ate berries from the bushes and made friends with curious water dragons that climbed out of the river to eat his offerings of shortbread and fish.

Chanyeol did not catch rabbits anymore. He made stew from fish, from the spices that Junmyeon loved and still washed himself with lavender, flowers that he gathered from the fields. Rabbits gathered at his door, nibbling at the thistles that grew there and he fed them, fingers stroking over soft fur.

It was peaceful, even when he woke up in the dead of the night, calling for someone who would never come.

Occasionally he saw shadows lurking in the cusps of the trees, horns curling towards the sky and other times, white feathers scattered along the stream where Yixing was said to rest.

Chanyeol still heard him sometimes, big wings flapping about in the wind, bringing spring together with him.

Or perhaps that was just the wind playing tricks on his ears, whistling past his own crop of cotton flowers, in memory of the dove who loved the Moors.


End file.
